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inhonoredglory · 9 months

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Defining Ineffable Love (or, Aziracrow Learn the Rules of Romance)

(In response to this ask about ineffables and asexuality)

One of the major threads this season was Aziraphale and Crowley asking themselves what exactly is their relationship. Not what it is in terms of how much they love each other. (That's a given.) But what it is in terms of the human implications of their love.

Crowley and Aziraphale definitely come at the relationship with different perspectives, in terms of what they’re willing to admit to the relationship being. I don’t think we can entirely interpret it in human terms. –David Tennant (source)

For 6000 years, they’ve never put a name on their relationship. They didn’t, because they’re inhuman, genderless, sexless beings and they didn’t grow up (as it were) with labels. And even when they did learn them, they couldn’t say it was love, because admitting that was a death sentence.

All of Aziraphale’s heart eyes and pining could live comfortably in his mind if he never admitted what that said about him as an angel (trauma compartmentalization). Crowley tries desperately to be cruel and nasty to add white noise around the blatant reality of his constant loyalty to Aziraphale. If you don’t put a word to it, it’s not real and they can’t punish you.

After the Not-pocalypse, for all rights and purposes, Aziraphale and Crowley chose humanity as their identity. We see Aziraphale “playing house” in various human roles (as a landlord, a private eye, a magician).

We even see Crowley intentionally taking on human behavior to handle emotional issues: “Just breathe, that’s what humans do.” They’re slowly and intentionally enculturating themselves into the world they want to belong––earth.

Yet it’s setting up Maggie and Nina that makes Aziraphale and Crowley start thinking about their relationship as a human construct.

Because fundamentally, Aziraphale and Crowley are not human. Like Neil Gaiman tells us constantly, they can’t be defined in human terms when it comes to gender and sexuality. They can shift and move through each and any of those markers at will, purely for the pleasure of the thing: “angels are sexless unless they really want to make an effort.”

IMO that makes them originally asexual, in the sense they were created without the need for sex. And it makes them fundamentally transgender and genderfluid, because while on earth, their sexless, eldritch spiritual bodies take on human, gendered forms and clothing. What gender (and sexuality) they identify with while on earth varies through the eras. Crowley definitely has a fluid gender identity, while Aziraphale appears to have settled on gay man (aka THE southern pansy) for his internal typology (although all of these identities are subject to change).

In the midst of all this fluidity, it’s no wonder Aziraphale and Crowley haven’t thought of their relationship in human terms before. There’s just so much different in them and their bodies than what they see in humanity. And there are no books and songs that show the kind of love they have, in the malleable, sexless bodies they have, with the background they have; it’s all ineffable.

Aziraphale and Crowley didn’t start out thinking they were in a romantic relationship. Whatever feelings they had were long repressed, redefined, and shuttled away. But they did love each other, without question. And it was that love which scared them, because it was bigger than anything they saw among humans, a love that was beautiful and blasphemous and unfathomable.

Kinda like what David Duchovny said about Mulder and Scully in The X-Files, “I don’t know if they’re in love. In a way, their relationship is deeper than that, because they cannot live without each other.”

Now take this profound, ineffable love and drop it into the little boxes and labels human culture has created for itself.

Full disclosure: I’m an asexual demiromantic person in a queerplatonic relationship, so I’ve done a fair bit of research on what romance is and how the rituals of romance are, in many ways, social inventions that vary from culture to culture. There’s love and then there’s romance, and they don’t always overlap. So my interpretation of Aziraphale and Crowley comes through this lens and the fact that Neil Gaiman has affirmed the validity of an ace-spec reading on our ineffables.

Which brings me back to my thesis: That only now are Aziraphale and Crowley thinking of themselves as a romantic couple, precisely because they are interfacing with humans and taking on their social rules.

I like this one asexual person’s description of their experience, which feels very much like our ineffables (from a very good article, I def recommend):

If there is a border between friendship and romance, then in my internal landscape, it goes right through a misty forest where no one has ever bothered to place signs.... Neither of us had intended to start anything even vaguely romantic, but the activities we did and the intense kind of immediate connection we had was coded as romantic in our culture.

That’s what Crowley realizes when Nina confronts him about his relationship to Aziraphale.

“It looks like that from here.” What Crowley and Aziraphale share is beyond definition, but Nina cannot imagine the anything beyond the human labels she was taught. The tragedy of an everlasting love is that it can only be conveyed properly to other humans if it is cast in such small human words––partner, boyfriend, husband.

Because when Crowley denied those human roles for Aziraphale, Nina slid down the path of thinking Aziraphale was just his “bit on the side,” because there were no labels left she could imagine for them. If you don’t put a word to it, it’s not real.

That’s the purpose of labels, to culturally validate a person's identity. Labels, of course, DO NOT create reality; people's experiences are always real, in all their varied ineffability. But labels allow a space for culture (ie other humans and political and legal society) to recognize formally your lived reality.

So Crowley started really thinking about him and Aziraphale, about the ineffable love between them and realized that in human terms, those would be the things he’d call Aziraphale, because those were the words that gave Aziraphale that place of importance in his life.

But with that realization comes all the human trappings and behavioral patterns around those words (the candlelit dinners, dramatic rescues, drinks at the Ritz, etc.) which Crowley had never thought of before, and yet… maybe romance is what he and Aziraphale have been doing all along.

That’s why this season centered so much around Aziraphale and Crowley using cultural artifacts (film and literature) to understand romance, because romance is so deeply socially-defined.

Aziraphale himself has been leaning hard into the romantic social cues (he’s more well-read in the cultural trappings of romance than Crowley is), especially post-Blitz. But when he watches Maggie and Nina dancing, he works up the courage to do something with Crowley that’s even more explicitly loaded as “traditionally romantic” than anything he’s done up to that point.

Because while risking their lives for each other and defying everything for each other is love in its purest form, dancing (specifically in Jane Austen’s world) is a public performance coded for potential marriage partners. It's an intimate ritual of the entire body. (And in British slang, dancing has been used as a euphemism for sex.)

Crowley's "We don't dance" is really telling, because it shows Crowley’s awareness of the unknowable devotion between them vs the human roles Aziraphale is asking him to fill, specifically its physical aspects. Aziraphale is asking to make their relationship more public, more physically explicit, more coded as romantic in a setting specifically intended to couple individuals.

While Maggie and Nina inspired Aziraphale to progress their relationship into a publicly physical direction, Maggie and Nina inspired Crowley to think of the emotional implications of their human roles: the commitment, security, and monogamy of a husband, a partner, an us.

That’s what he decides after Maggie and Nina confront him in the end. “You never say what you’re really thinking.” He wants to codify his relationship so they each become responsible to one another. Aziraphale has always been his soulmate, the one he could always rely on. But he wants to place a word and a role to their love that will bring with it Aziraphale’s commitment and dedication to him.

And that's another reason why Crowley kisses Aziraphale, because he knows Aziraphale was willing to make their relationship physical, and he wants that, too. To consummate this bond in the way humans do.

But Crowley doesn’t really know how to kiss; he’s not as worldly as he makes out to be. (It’s Aziraphale who owns the gun, and Crowley who’s never fired one.) He uses the kiss as a tool to get across to Aziraphale what he wants for them, in the physical language Aziraphale has been using, because "one fabulous kiss and we're good," right?

But it doesn’t work, because real life and real emotions don’t work like that; life and love don’t follow a script, despite the novels and plays and songs.

Aziraphale and Crowley spent this entire season trying to figure out what their relationship is and what they wanted out of it, trying to make sense of the unfathomable thing they share and the human implications of it, and not quite landing on the same page.

Part 2 of this Analysis, covering a correction in Crowley’s statement (“You don’t dance”) and the further implications of dancing/sex.

#please see the part 2 listed at the end for an analysis Crowley’s “you don’t dance #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #go s2 meta #go meta #good omens meta #queer #asexuality #asexual #aromantic #genderfluid #gos2spoilers #go s2 #good omens 2 meta #ineffable romance #*mine #*mymeta

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bakubunny · 4 months

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i’m gonna indulge you in more eraserdust

shiggy who get’s out of prison on good behavior (it’s a longer story than that but i’m being lazy) basically he’s allowed out but he has to be on heavy watch.

thinking of shouta who’s not in the hero scene as much anymore, offers to take him in because even though he was a menace, sho can understand /why/.

shiggy tries his best to get under sho’s skin but, the man doesn’t scare easy. he’s as cool as a cucumber, treats him like a human being, but doesn’t take no shit.

idk idk 😵‍💫

full disclosure: this took a (v. self indulgent) eraserdust x reader-ish vibe. if you don’t mind. 🫣

ugh ok but can you imagine daddy!shota who doesn’t put up with tomura’s shit?? 😵‍💫

like in general he doesn’t put up with tomura’s nonsense. and he can tell the kid has a ton of issues. he also catches him looking at you both when your back is turned bc even as a retired hero, he’s still quick and perceptive as hell bc he still trains heroes at UA when he’s able. so tomura’s feelings are hardly a secret to him. but of course, shota is protective of you… and sort of wants what’s best for tomura in a way.

then one night, maybe it’s bc you were being a little too bratty or you just wanted him to be mean, shota is exactly that. he’s mean and punishing and has you whining and begging for every little thing.

you both think tomura is gone but he somehow sneaks back in the house and hears fucking everything. so now he’s beating it pathetically in the room next door, listening in while you whine about “daddy please,” this and “daddy it hurts,” that and all of a sudden shota stops. you have no idea why, you’re bent over naked and floating in an entirely different headspace from the endorphins released.

the words are muffled, but tomura’s got his ear pressed to the wall.

“sho?”

“did you hear that?” he asks.

tomura panics as his dick throbs at the thought of getting caught because he couldn’t stop whining while fucking his fist.

“n-no? what is it, babe?” you reply.

shota contemplates telling you that he’s almost sure heard a whine come from the wall, but decides that, at least today, he’s going to keep the information to himself and save you the embarrassment.

“it’s nothing. don’t you worry your pretty little head, babygirl,” he replies before landing another hard strike onto your ass.

#💖#gosh this took a turn real fuckin quick #all I did was brain dump so don’t @ me #this is not edited #gonna go hide now #this is a big fat yikes #tw daddy kink #bakubunny #eraserdust x reader #x reader #aizawa x reader #shigaraki x reader #aizawa smut #shigaraki smut #f!reader

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whatsurdesign · 1 year

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anyway, i believe in full disclosure about art bc i’m not keen on artists gatekeeping their “genius” so here’s a breakdown of how the “This is your brain on L.S. Dunes” poster happened:

the “this is your brain on ls dunes” happened cause i Really wanted to do something dunes-related and i happened to watch the video for substance by demi lovato (i’m a massive fan since a kid, sorry) and it kinda *clicked* in my brain. so i investigated about the campaign, the font, etc

a whole lotta investigation on that campaign. when, how, the font, the overall social climate (i’m not american so it scared me shitless to walk into something that might be interpreted as inappropriate). how that can work w the band’s imagery. u get it.

i was working at a kitchen washing dishes and peeling potatoes through the summer and i would use the 2-3 hours that i was mindlessly peeling potatoes every day to work on my ideas that i had until they made Sense. i just put them into my computer. no magic. just a lot of thinking. as corny as it might sound, no one is like u. that is why u are necessary. and gatekeeping resources is bs when u can give them away freely and the outcome will never be the same as yours’ bc u are unique. and even if someone tries to copy u it will Clearly Not Look The Same.

anyway the result was this. it’s no magic. just a lot of thinking, and trying. and going back to the drawing board from the beginning. graphic designers don’t get paid to sit around and do aesthetically pleasing work, they work their asses off. and occasionally they succeed

#ls dunes #frank iero #travis stever #tim payne #anthony green #tucker rule #thursday #mcr #my chemical romance #circa survive #saosin #coheed and cambria #poster design #graphic design #photoshop #demi lovato

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putschki1969 · 4 months

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❓Hikaru Instagram Q&A❓

Last night, Hikaru invited her followers on Instagram to send her some questions. Even though this was originally meant to be a late night activity, Hikaru said that it was okay to keep submitting questions throughout the day. Here are some of my highlights〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

Questions about Kalafina

She got asked about her favourite Kalafina song multiple times. Her usual answer was that it was impossible to choose just a single song. She did mention however that at that moment she felt like listening to "Hanataba". When being asked about both her favourite Kalafina as well as H-el-ical// song, she once again struggled to choose just one but a current favourite is "紡 - TSUMUGU -". Someone asked Hikaru to share an uplifting song, her choice is Kalafina's "One Light". Her favourite lyrics from "Yume no Daichi" are the following lines (WaKei part): 貴方が生まれた On that bright morning その眩しい朝に that you were born まだ誰も知らない no one yet knows 華やかな歌が A brilliant song 静かに始まった has quietly begun [Note: I personally love the verse that comes right after this one]

Questions about Keiko

She got asked about her favourite Keiko solo song. Since she wasn't able to pick one, she listed a few: "Hitori Janai Kara", "Yoru no Uso to", "Kimi ga Nemuru Kara", "Latte" and "Inochi no Hana". [Note: Ah yes, happy to see "Kimi ga Nemuru Kara" on her list, it's a personal favourite!] As for Hikaru's favourite part about Keiko: Her personality. Btw, Keiko reacted to those two replies in her own Instagram story💗.

Question about Wakana

Full disclosure, this was one of my questions/messages. I had only sent a very generic support comment last night (these things make me feel so uncomfortable so I’m usually too scared to send anything else🙈) but for some reason, I was feeling brave earlier today so I thought I would sneak in a subtle ask about Wakana. "What is your favourite Wakana solo song?" Nothing too personal or obtrusive. She had been asked a similar question about Keiko before so I didn't think she would mind being asked about Wakana as well. Especially since she has now mentioned twice how she would love for everyone to support all of their individual solo careers. For me, this sentiment implies that she is very supportive of not only Keiko's solo career but also Wakana's. Anyway, she couldn't choose one because it was way too difficult again [Note: Honestly my mistake. I had noticed that she was struggling to name only one song for similar questions but I was too nervous while writing this so I didn't even think about that T_T]. Hikaru named a few of her favourite Wakana songs: "Nagareboshi", "Ai no Hana", "magic moment" and "ato hitotsu". ["Ai no Hana", my beloved! Surprised to see "Nagareboshi" here though. Very fascinating choice! "ato hitotsu" is also one of my all-time faves!]

#kalafina #wakana #keiko #hikaru #hikaru on instagram #keiko on instagram #random #breadcrumbs

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verai-marcel · 7 months

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Your Hearth Is My Home (BG3 Fanfic, Astarion x Female Reader, Part 1 of 27)

Summary: Not every adventurer wields a weapon. You, a hearth witch living near the banks of River Chionthar, are witness to a craft falling from the sky, and wondering if anyone needed assistance, ran down to find survivors. That was your first mistake. Going along with the survivors on their crazy adventure? That was your second mistake. Will you survive your next mistake of letting a hungry vampire bite you?

Author’s Notes: Full disclosure: at this point, I’ve only played through act 2 without romancing Astarion. So why the fuck am I writing some wholesome Astarion x F!Reader? Because I’m dumb and got spoiled on Youtube, and now I can’t stop thinking about the poor guy. Also this is heavily influenced by a couple of wholesome manga (“Life in Another World as a Housekeeping Mage” and “The Forsaken Saintess and her Foodie Roadtrip in Another World”), but I won’t be writing an isekai. You (reader) are from Faerun like everyone else. I’m just here to have some wholesome feels and hurt/comfort. Let’s go go go.

Tags: wholesome, cozy camp time, Astarion x F!Reader, slow burn, good alignment, BG3 Spoilers

Chapter Word Count: 1,843

Ao3 Link here, Darling.

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Act I, Chapter 1 - The Beginning

You are a hearth witch, living on the banks of the River Chionthar, making potions and herbal remedies for the small villages nearby. For the past three years, you’d been happier than you’d ever been in your life. You loved helping people, but you made sure not to reveal your real name, nor why you always wore long sleeves and gloves, even in the middle of summer.

But the nearby villages had been emptying as of late. News of the goblin camp that recently appeared nearby had first scared off the traveling merchants, and then the locals. You realized that you too should leave, otherwise you’d either have no more customers or goblins on your doorstep. You only had a dagger and a few spells that did little in ways of actual damage, so defending yourself against a horde of enemies was out of the question. So you began to pack up, figuring out what you could bring with you, and what needed to be repurchased once you reached your new home, wherever that might be.

On a warm sunny day, you decided that this would be your last day here. Your pack was filled, your cottage cleaned out. Tomorrow morning, you would take off to the east, following the river to the next closest town. For now, you decided to grab a few more ingredients for the road, and so, you were out by the river bank, gathering fresh herbs and mushrooms.

A booming sound followed a strong gust of wind that whipped around you, twigs and grass flying everywhere. Then you saw a ship crash nearby, the land and water being torn asunder, debris flung in all directions. After the chaos died down a bit, you went to go check for survivors. You couldn’t, in good conscience, walk away if someone might need help.

That was a poor decision on your part.

The first survivor you found was a young, dark-haired woman, passed out on the shore. She seemed standoffish, but after helping her up and giving her a drink from your waterskin, you convinced her that the best thing to do was to get out of the area and rest at your cottage while she regained her bearings.

A little while later, the two of you came upon the strange sight of a single arm, sticking out of a glowing purple rune. You and the young woman, Shadowheart, pulled the poor man out. He introduced himself as Gale, and also joined your party.

As the three of you continued back to your cottage, you came across another stranger. Skin as pale as marble and hair to match. Had some scars on his neck. Perhaps he got them on the ship? He seemed harmless enough. Another escapee of the craft that fell from the sky.

That is, until he tricked you into looking for something in the bushes.

If only he hadn’t touched your exposed neck with his bare hand. Then you wouldn’t have felt the fear, underlined by a desperation you knew all too well.

The leash is cut.

It made you empathize. And that was one rule that had been burned into your mind at a young age.

Do not empathize with the enemy.

Fortunately, Gale and Shadowheart talked him down from stabbing you. The man even apologized to you, though it seemed more for show than for sincerity.

Astarion was his name. He introduced himself with aplomb and decorum, and your hackles raised at the sight. A noble.

After a bit more conversation, they agreed that their shared affliction was enough of a reason to travel together and find a cure.

Swallowing down your general prejudice against nobles, you ignored him and made small talk with the others as you led them back to your cottage.

***

Your cottage had only one room, enough space for your bed, some storage for herbs and tools, and a work table for your alchemy. Most of your things were packed, but you pulled out enough to take care of your guests.

The yard to the side of the building was set up as a small campground for travelers to rest. You had figured out a couple years ago that for a small fee, traveling merchants would gladly rest on your land where it was safe, while you made them fresh, nourishing meals and cast spells on their bedrolls to make them feel warm and comfortable. You even managed to get a small tub built in the back to provide a warm bath for an extra fee.

It had been a lucrative idea, one that made you enough money to be quite comfortable out here in the sticks.

You may only know a few cantrips, but you had manipulated them beyond what most people did. Your mending cantrip could fix whole swaths of cloth, your prestidigitation cantrip could keep bedrolls warm all night, or baths hot for hours. It was why you had several repeat customers, traveling merchants who would alter their routes to come to your place to rest.

You told them of the surrounding area and cooked a meal for them, a simple stew with seasonal vegetables and herbs.

The noble said he wasn’t hungry. You supposed your poor peasant food wasn’t to his taste.

He can suit himself.

While the others were eating, you set up the campground. While you were quietly casting the comfort cantrip on each bedroll, you sensed someone watching you.

“Yes?” you asked, biting the inside of your mouth to keep from being snippy.

Astarion stepped closer to you. He remained standing, looking down on your kneeling form. “What an interesting way to use prestidigitation.”

You shrugged. You had nothing to say to a noble. You finished your spell and started to shuffle over to the next bedroll, but he remained standing in your way.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all, darling.” He didn’t budge.

You let out a short huff and crawled around him. One bedroll left. Ignoring the man, you began the cantrip.

By the time you finished, you looked up to see all three of them watching you.

“What?” you asked, a little disturbed by the attention.

“I hadn’t thought to use that cantrip like this before,” Gale said as he knelt down to touch the bedroll. “How long does it last?”

“All night,” you responded, feeling a little proud of yourself.

Shadowheart was already crawling into the bedroll. “This feels amazing.” She buried herself into the cloth. “It feels like I’m sleeping on a warm cloud.”

Gale shrugged and followed suit. “Gods, you’re right.” He sat up and looked at you. “I don’t know how you manipulated that spell, but it’s absolutely brilliant.”

You felt a zing of joy. Your little custom cantrip impressed a wizard!

The noble watched you for a few more moments before he too, crawled into a bedroll. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh. My, this is rather comfortable.”

You jutted out your chin, but refrained from being too catty about it. Instead, you switched to being polite.

“Sweet dreams,” you said to everyone, and went about cleaning up around camp. By the time you were done, the three of them were fast asleep.

***

The motley crew thanked you and took off in the morning to explore the area, seemingly never to return.

You looked around at your unpacked things, and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to start off tomorrow morning instead.

Your plans were sidetracked once more, however, when the group returned that evening with a fourth member, grouchy and prickly as a threatened porcupine. After a couple of bowls of your herbal soup, she became a little bit less prickly. Lae'zel was her name, and she punctuated her Common speech with her Githyanki tongue. You found it a bit endearing, the way one finds a stray animal that always hisses at you endearing.

You cast a warming spell on their bed rolls once more, burned incense to keep the insects away, and made sure they were all comfortable in your little camp area outside of your cottage before going to bed.

The next morning, you got up early to make breakfast for them before they left to explore the ruins that they had found the day before. As you checked your rabbit traps, you noticed one of them was tripped, but the rabbit within was a mere husk, as if it had been dehydrated.

Curious.

You reset your trap and returned to camp.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked when she saw the husk of a corpse in your hand.

“A dried up rabbit.”

“That doesn’t sound appetizing,” Lae’zel remarked.

You shrugged. “I can at least sell the pelt later. Sorry, you’ll have to make do with another vegetable stew tonight.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “That is, if you’re coming back here.”

The four adventurers looked at each other.

“I think we’ve taken advantage of your hospitality long enough,” Gale said. We’ll start heading west from here.”

***

The group had finally left, and you had finished packing. You had been delayed by their arrival, but no longer. They truly seemed gone now, with the sun setting and no sign of their return. Tomorrow for sure. Tomorrow, early in the morning, you would set off—

You heard your name being called. Off in the distance, you could see Gale, waving sheepishly at you, followed by the others.

You sighed. Biting back your annoyance, you smiled and waved back. A customer was a customer. At least this group was entertaining, and quite generous with their gold. And this time, they brought you back some boar meat.

There was one new face, a man with a stone eye. He introduced himself as the Blade of the Frontiers, Wyll. He seemed nice, charismatic even. Someone who had the manners of a noble but the heart of a commoner.

They set up camp once more in your yard, and you unpacked just enough of your supplies to make them a meal.

"You look like you're ready to go on a journey," Gale commented as you all sat around the campfire, eating a boar roast with herbed potatoes.

"I'm moving. Many people have moved away because of the increase in goblins in the area, and a lot of my business has dried up. And having goblins this close doesn't make me feel all too safe."

“Any plans on where?”

You shrugged. “Not really. I was just going to travel until I found a place to settle.”

"Well, why don't you come with us?"

Everyone looked at Gale in shock, but then they all looked at you.

"You do make camp much more comfortable," Shadowheart finally said.

“And one of us would be standing guard at camp as well, so you would be safe,” Wyll added.

You saw no reason to decline. You liked most of them, save for one snotty noble. A constant flow of income would be nice, for once. You negotiated a decent wage and agreed to head out with them at first light.

That, dear hearth witch, was your second poor decision.

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Chapter End Notes:

Yeah, I basically made up a “hearth witch” class as a combo of druid, wizard, and cleric, but hey, welcome to Dungeons & Dragons, where homebrew classes happen all the time. Hope you enjoyed the fic! I'm actively working on the next chapter!

Update 4/4/24: All chapters are here!

#bg3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion #astarion x F!Reader #slow burn #female reader #baldur's gate 3 #your hearth is my home

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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I just absolutely love this NCIS series. So much. I’m wondering if Ziva will ever make an appearance? Rooster would be both terrified and admirable of her but also be so concerned because reader is suddenly so into her hand to hand combat training

Ah, this is so bad but this is what I came up with. But anyway here’s a little update and the NCIS series Masterlist

Oh yes. No Ziva is definitely around. I think you’re right though, she’d fucking scare the shit out of Bradley. And I could see you upping your gym sessions a little more frequently after Bradley proposes.

We need to get one thing straight people—Bradley Bradshaw doesn’t regret proposing. He’d never regret a decision like that. He knew he wanted to spend his entire life with you from the minute he first met you. But he did propose out of sheer terror that he’d never get to if he didn’t do it immediately.

“I almost didn't come home this time.” It was a sentence you never wanted to hear but were still thankful enough to hear him say it. It was and would always be better than the alternative. The home calls all military men and women dreaded. The one where officials inform you of a loss. “And it made me realise that I now have someone to leave behind.”

It had been keeping you awake at night. The thought of something happening to Bradley that could take him away from you. He’d told you in full confidence everything that had happened—full disclosure, no confidentiality. Fuck the rules. It had set off a trigger inside you—for him you had to be better, be smarter, train harder. You didn’t want to leave your fiancé behind. There were things you could learn and upskill in to protect yourself. That could give you a better chance of coming home to Bradley every day.

“Ah it’s our resident Flyboy—“ DiNozzo beamed as he spun on his chair. Gibbs couldn’t hide his smirk that had crept onto his face as he walked side by side with Rooster, having collected him at security. Over the years Bradley had really taken a liking to Gibbs. Sure, they had a not so great start but the terrifying father had warmed up to the Aviator who stole his daughters heart.

Gibbs had taken Rooster shooting a handful of times, only threatening to wipe all traces of him from the face of the earth if he ever hurt you only once or twice. But sure enough as time pressed on and Bradley stuck around, Gibbs really did start to treat Bradley Bradshaw like a son he never had, and he had a new found respect for the lieutenant when he was calling him late at night before boarding his plane to Washington to ask him for your hand in marriage. Bradley was gonna do it anyway, regardless of what Gibbs had said—but he wanted to talk to your dad first purely because he was nervous and couldn’t talk to his own.

“What brings you in?”

“Brought you guys some lunch.” Bradley’s dumping the plastic bag full of burgers and fries on DiNozzo's desk. “And came to see my girl” Looking around, Rooster could usually pick you in a crowd. But today? You weren’t around. “She around or?”

“She’s in the gym with Ziva—“ Gibbs replied as he sat with a slight huff at his desk. “Training session, hand to hand combat.”

“She’s been doing that a lot hasn’t she?” McGee questioned as he sauntered over to grab a burger. “I mean it’s probably not a bad thing it’s just I don’t know what would have changed to make her suddenly wanna be a—“

“Certifiable badass?” Tony is smirking as Rooster stood with his arms crossed. Gibbs sent him a look of concern and he instantly knew what this was about. The goddamn uranium mission. “Gibbs knows what she’s doing, it’s proud just some phase, like when she got those stupid sea monkeys for her desk that died like a week later.” Bradley knew better than to know this was just a phase.

“I think it might have something to do with the last mission I was on—“ Clearing his throat with a cough before looking around the room. “She’s been a little off since I came back from it.” Rooster wasn’t about to out the fact he’d told you every small detail about that special detachment. No fucking way not with Leroy Jethro Gibbs sitting in his peripheral vision. “Think it might just be a reaction to something I said, accidentally planted in her head—“ Running his hand down his face with a small sigh, Bradley turned to the agents who shared a sympathetic look with him. Every single man in that room would go above and beyond for you—it was just a little sad how blissfully unaware just how far you’d go for them. “Uh, how do I get to the gym?”

“Floor four, take the elevator at the rear and it’s the first door on your right, if you find yourself in the morgue you’ve gone too far.” Rooster just stared at Gibbs with a stone cold face, watching the old man chuckle. He liked messing with the kid. A lot.

“Thanks pops—“ Rooster tapped Gibbs on the shoulder twice before he left, Gibbs returned the small gesture of affection to Rooster's hand, tapping him back once before he walked away. Making his way down to the gym. He got lost—but inevitably ended up in the place you needed to be. He didn’t come to your workplace very often, but on occasion when he knew you weren’t working a major case, he’d stop by security for visitors tag and call Jethro to come collect him.

Bradley wanted to make his appearance known a lot earlier than he did. But he got caught up in watching you train self defense. Sitting by the door with a small plastic cup of water in his hand, Bradley watched you and Ziva spar. Again and again and again you both ran through sequences and various types of martial arts training. The former Mossad agent had always given Bradley heart palpitations—and not in the oh she’s cute kinda way. More in the, He know for a fact she knows a pressure point that could instantly kill me.

“Not good enough!” Ziva hissed at you as you fell to the ground. She’d kicked your legs out from under you and sent you flying towards the ground. Your arse colliding with the harsh rubber sparring mat. “Get up, quickly. You’d be dead by now if this was real.” Ziva wasn’t lying. You wanted her to be harsh with you, be honest and make you vulnerable because that’s how it would really be. “There’s no second chances when you hesitate for even a split second.” Huh, she sounded like Maverick—just more terrifying. Bradley was entrance. Terrified nonetheless, but completely fixated on the session going on.

With a groan, you slowly stood up. Fixing your stance and giving her a nod to say you were good. Setting your hands in a defensive position before Ziva was coming at you with blows left and right. Right hooks, upper cuts, jabs and powerful crosses that you did your best to block and defend against. Grunting and sweating as you ducked and spun around—kicking her legs out from under her. Returning to sender what she had down to you. Sending her down as you pressed a knee into her shoulder.

“How was that?” You gifted her a hand up from the ground. Taking your hand as you pulled Ziva up, she smirked. She was impressed but she’d never tell you that. She wanted you to believe that there was never a level of confidence that could be reached that would one hundred percent guarantee survival.

“Sloppy at best but we can work on it.” Ziva smirked as she turned her head to where Bradley had been sitting. She knew when he’d arrived but didn’t want to break your concentration. “I think your white boy is here?” Turning to where Ziva's eyeline had gone you were met with none other than your fiancé. Chuckling to yourself as you turned back to her you tried to hide your joy.

“I think you mean Flyboy.” It had become a nickname that stuck around the office. Tony, Tim, Ziva and even your dad would all take turns referring to Bradley as Flyboy. Sure, from time to time a Rooster would slip past. Lieutenant was common and Bradshaw was often the baseline on any given day. But Flyboy? It stuck long term. “But you aren’t wrong for that either.” Making your way over to where Rooster stood watching with curious eyes. “Hey! What are you doing here?” With the biggest smile you could conjure, you greeted Bradley with open arms.

“Brought you and the guys some lunch.” Kissing your flushed cheek as he wrapped his arms around you. “Got bored, the house is super clean though.” It had just been one of those days where everything seemed a little overwhelming. You were and always would be Bradley’s satellite though. “What’s with the uh—the kickboxing and self defense maneuvering ?” Bradley knew he knew the answer. Oh he definitely knew the answer. But he wanted to hear you say it first.

He wanted you to be open with him, something was brewing in the incredible mind of yours. He could tell. But you had somewhat shut off the past few weeks. Not as open as you normally were. Keeping something, harboring your own existential crisis that you should have let Bradley in on. After all, it was his honesty and his own breakdown that had sent you into this spiral.

“She’s lacking in her self defense—“ Ziva piped up as she walked towards where you and Bradley stood. In reaction Bradley took a small step back. Ziva just chuckled to herself and shook her head. “Relax Bradshaw I’m done for the day—unless you wanna go a round?”

“I’m good thanks Ziva.” There had been a time where McGee had tricked Rooster into a sparring session with Ziva. He was out cold in a matter of minutes. The former Mossad Agent had accidentally gone a little too hard knowing Bradley was three times her size. She thought he could take it. He couldn’t. That was the first time they’d ever met, that moment still clearly etched into stone on Roosters mind. “It’s good to see you though.”

“Ziva’s just been helping me up my skills Roo—“ Ah fuck, there it was. Roo. You only ever called Bradley Roo in two situations. When you were trying to seduce him or when you were hiding something. He was pretty sure you weren’t trying to seduce him either—so it had to be that you were hiding something. “Gotta be ready for anything, you know.”

“Lieutenant Bradshaw as much as this reunion of ours has warmed my heart, I heard lunch?”

“I left the bag on Tony’s desk, I can’t promise there’s anything left—“ He didn’t get to finish before Ziva was taking off. Starving and knowing DiNozzo wouldn’t leave a crumb of evidence behind. “She’s intense isn’t she.”

“But a valuable asset when it comes to training.” You sighed, heading over to the water station. “I feel like I broke my tailbone.”

“With the way you hit that mat I wouldn’t be surprised.” Bradley taunted as he followed you. “Hey listen, you aren’t doing all this because of the—“

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.” Oh yeah he had you now.

“Baby—“ he cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist as he stood behind you. His chin resting on your shoulder. “I can’t have you over exerting yourself like this on the chance of a what if.”

“It’s not a what if Bradley, it’s a when—“ You sighed, turning in Bradley’s arms as he moved them to wrap around the back of your neck. “For both of us, it’s not a matter of if but when.”

“That’s a grim outlook.” You didn’t have a comeback, simply sinking into Bradley’s chest, your ear pressing against his heart. “You gotta dial down the training, just a little—it’s not healthy and it’s worrying me to know that the only reason you’re doing it is because I projected.”

“It was a fair projection though, I mean you were right. When the day comes you don’t make it back or when the day comes that I don’t come home—“ Pausing for a moment to look lovingly into Bradley’s eyes. Drink in the sight of him, vomit every small detail to memory. “I wanna be as prepared for whatever could come my way.”

“Can I level with you for a moment?” Leading you into the middle of the sparring ring, Bradley kicked off his shoes and undid his belt. Watching with a small smirk you watched as he took a defensive stance. You followed in return. “Sure, the risks are high.” Rooster made the first move, coming at you with a hand as he stepped forward. Still talking casually as you ducked his blow. “But what about all the other when’s?”

“You mean like when we get married?” You smirked as you made contact with Bradley’s side. A gentle groan escaping as a wave of seriousness cascaded down his face. Oh you were on.

“Or when we finally buy a house together so I don’t feel like I’m all up in your space.” Rooster was talking to you like you were the sun and moon to him. Which you very much were. But the way he was coming at you with blows and punches and kicks—told a different story. He was trying to show you that when the time came, you’d do everything in your ability to fight back.

“Or when we have a couple of kids running around.” You groaned when you dodged a particularly harsh warning hit to the side. Swinging under to try and catch Bradley off guard by kicking his legs out. But he jumped you. “Dick—“

“Do better, You got this.” It was the encouragement coming from Bradley that kept you going until finally you had him down on his arse in defeat. A sudden thud rang out through the gym as you stood towering over your fiancé. Huffing and panting because he’d put up a good fight. “Damn—“

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You offered Bradley a hand up, but he pulled you down on top of him. “Babe!—“

“Please don’t get caught up worrying about things you can’t control. I wanna enjoy you while I’ve got a chance to.”

“You almost didn’t come home.” It was true. He almost didn’t. And Bradley had fallen victim to the existential crisis that was ever looming doom before. It was a consistent and pressing dear you both shared. Losing one another. But it couldn’t be all consuming—if you let the fear of losing a loved one consume you, there wouldn’t be enough room left to love them while you had the chance.

“Key word being almost.” Kissing your lips softly as you straddled his waist. “I will always do my best to come home to you, so long as you promise me the same.”

****~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~****~

Tag: @auroraboreallisfine @tigerfan24 @atarmychick007 @rosee-sensuelle @unhingedhousehold @belowtheharddeck300 @daisyhollyxox @luckyladycreator2 @86laura11 @justanothermagicalsara @taytaylala12 @rhirhikingston

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x f!reader #ncis fandom #ncis fanfiction

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grandeoatmilklatte · 9 months

Text

A Good Night 🍻

Hello and happy Weasley Wednesday once again! This week’s theme was “drunk” so here’s my contribution! Full disclosure - I struggled to complete this one on time and went through multiple drafts of it before I was happy with it. Hopefully you like the finished product! Since I was pressed for time, I am posting this on mobile, so please ignore any formatting issues. I’ll fix them once I’m on a computer!

Also - if you’re waiting for the part 3 of my Ominis x MC series Undying Love, I promise it’s coming later this week!

A Good Night - Garreth Weasley x Slytherin Female MC

Summary - Cliche Slytherin party drunken shenanigans! 2.2k words!

NSFW/18+ Smut! Characters are aged up and consenting adults. There is some drunk sexy time in here, please don’t engage if you’re under 18!

————

MC placed the ladle in the last bowl of punch and placed it on the table before taking a step back and admiring her work. Everything was all set for tonight. Slytherin house was hosting another one of its big parties. The parties were usually exclusively for those in the Slytherin house, but since MC had taken over the role of house party planner in her 7th year, she was allowed to invite a select few students from other houses to the party. She had decided to invite her crush, Garreth Weasley, and his best friend Leander, who were Gryffindors. There was always a silly little rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor house, but MC didn’t care. She had a crush on Garreth since their 5th year, but was always too afraid to tell him how she felt. Now that she was in her 7th year and had grown some confidence in two years, she was hoping inviting Garreth to this first party of the school year would be her opportunity to tell him how she felt.

“Wow. You outdid yourself, MC! This is going to be one hell of a party! I can’t believe you invited Weasley and Prewitt, though. I still can’t believe you even have a crush on Weasley. Yuck!” Sebastian said as he walked into the common room checking out your work.

“Oh shut it Sallow! You don’t see me picking on you for your feelings for Ominis do you?!” There was a bite to MC’s voice, but she was mostly just messing with her friend. Sebastian looked around quickly, ensuring that no one was around to hear her say that. “No!” Sebastian whispered angrily. “And could you please not be so loud?! You’re not the only one scared to admit your feelings for your crush, you know!”

“Well maybe you will tonight! I know I’m hoping to. And if anything, there’s always this liquid courage to help us with that!” MC tilted her head towards the underside of the tables, where numerous kegs of firewhiskey were waiting to be opened up. “Alright, I need to go change before everyone starts showing up! See you in a few!” MC shouted as she dashed up the stairs to her dorm room.

—

“Okay so, which one of these makes me smell more desirable?!” Garreth said as he aggressively waved two cologne bottles in Leander’s face.

“Mate! I’m probably not the best person to ask that to! Just go with either. I’m pretty certain MC likes you back. She’ll like you regardless of your cologne. I mean, she did invite us to a Slytherin party, you know, the ones NO ONE from Gryffindor EVER gets invited to. She’s the most popular girl in school, she could have invited anyone from any of the other houses but she invited you. I know I only got invited as your plus one, but you were the main invite. That has to mean she fancies you. There’s no way she doesn’t!”

Garreth sighed, wanting to believe his friend, but having a hard time believing that MC, the most popular girl in school, as Leander had put it, had invited him to her party. Of course, MC and Garreth were friends, and she could have totally invited him as a friend, but to Leander’s point, she could have invited anyone, but she didn’t, she invited him. He had loved her since 5th year; she was so willing to get in trouble for him and steal that fwooper feather from Professor Sharp’s office for him. But he always thought she was too good for him, assuming that Sallow or any of the other Slytherin boys would have stolen her heart already, but none of them ever did. Garreth never thought for a second that she was holding on to her heart for the likes of Garreth Weasley, but little did he know how correct that was.

“I don’t know, mate. What if she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t want to make a fool out of myself!”

“Garreth, you make a fool out of yourself daily in class, and she loves it. It’s going to be fine!”

Garreth sighed once more and made a quick decision on the cologne, spritzing himself, and giving himself another glance over in the mirror. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

—

The Slytherin common room was loud, dark, and hot, the party in full force. Tons of students present, getting drunk and dancing the night away. MC made her way through the crowds of people, eager to find Garreth. She hadn’t seen him yet, and was beginning to worry he didn’t show. She did find Sebastian however, he was on one of the couches, drink in hand, him and Ominis looking very cozy together. A smile formed on her face. She would consider this night a win if even one of them got lucky tonight. MC made her way over to the couch.

“You boys look like you’re having a good time!” She shouted in a suggestive tone. She hadn’t noticed this from a distance, but when she sat on the couch she noticed Sebastian and Ominis were holding hands. Ominis turned to her, way more smiley than he usually ever was. “It’s too loud in here!” He yelled. “But Sebastian was saying maybe we should head back up to the dorm, go somewhere quieter, weren’t you, love?” MC looked at Sebastian in shock, and he returned her look with a smile and a wink. “Yes Ominis, we should head up there now!” The pair stood up, Sebastian taking Ominis’s hand.

MC stood up too, leaning in and whispering “Good luck!” In Sebastian’s ear. Sebastian repeated the action. “You too, by the way, he’s over there by the snacks, go get ‘em!” MC turned to see Garreth, turned back to Sebastian to flash him a smile before she quickly walked over to the snack table.

—

“Garreth relax! I see her now. She’s right over-oh shit she’s coming over here!” Leander explained, trying to calm down his friend who appeared to be having a nervous breakdown fueled by his drunkenness. He had gotten extremely nervous from the moment he walked into the party, and had been chugging shots of firewhiskey to calm his nerves. Four shots in though and it hadn’t worked, now he was nervous AND drunk.

“Shit!” Garreth shouted as he sloppily shoved the remainder of the pumpkin pasty he had been eating into his mouth, swallowing as quickly as he could to not look embarrassing in front of MC.

“Hey you two!” MC exclaimed when she approached. “Enjoying the party?”

“Great! Yes. Wow. You look…wow!” Garreth slurred out as he looked MC over. MC noticed his eyes, they were a beautiful shade emerald green, as they usually were, but this time they were a little glassy, indicating his drunken state. Even so, she loved getting lost in his eyes, and kept her stare for a few seconds before Garreth wrapped his arms around her waist and aggressively pulled her into him, almost knocking her over in the process.

“Has anyone ever told you…hiccup…that you are the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen?” MC giggled at Garreth’s words and his hiccups, them being the cutest, most high pitched hiccups she had ever heard. She knew he was a bit drunk, but she still couldn’t help but melt at his words.

“I think…hiccup…I think I might be…in love with you? No no I…I am! And I know I’m…a liiiiittle drunk. But! I know that I love you so so much! But not as a friend! As a more than…friend! Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

MC was taken aback by the confession, her jaw dropping slightly. She looked up at Leander, who was watching this entire interaction, with a silent question on her face. Leander nodded his head, “I know he’s a little drunk but, yes, it’s true.” MC’s eyes came back to Garreth, his hands still on her waist and his eyes glued to her, the most loving look in his eyes. She decided it was now or never, and wrapped her arms around Garreth’s head, pulling him into a soft, sweet kiss. They kissed for a few seconds before MC pulled away.

“Did you see that?! She hiccup kissed me!” Garreth asked as he turned around back to Leander. Leander just laughed, grabbed himself a drink and looked at MC. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then! Have a good night you two!” He then gave MC a wink and left. MC turned back to Garreth, his hands still glued to her waist. “Well, tonight is gonna be fun!”

—

The pair crashed through the door of the empty Slytherin dungeon’s girl’s bathroom, refusing to break the furious kiss they were in as they stumbled in. Garreth pushed MC up against the door, his hands still not having left her waist since he first put them there 20 minutes ago. They had stayed at the party to continue drinking, but had now grown tired of the party, eager to find a place to be alone.

Garreth was making a desperate attempt to pick MC up in his arms, which normally he could have probably done, but in his drunken state, not so much. MC laughed against Garreth’s lips. “My arms don’t work!” He slurred out laughing, which made MC laugh harder. She pushed against the door and pushed him into one of the sinks to continue kissing him, but he slipped a little when he made contact with the sink. He looked down at the sink, which was a previously broken, non functioning sink.

“Ooooh. I broke the sink! My aunt is going to be so mad at meee!”

“Sweetie, it was already broken. It’s been broken for a while.” MC laughed.

“Oh…why is there a little snake on it? Hi snake! Does it have a name?”

“I don’t know. Now get over here!”

MC crashed her lips into Garreth again, resuming their make out session. After a few minutes, Garreth had managed to flip their position, so that she was the one up against the sink. It was easier to pick her up this time, as Garreth sat MC on the ledge of the broken sink.

His lips moved down to her neck as Garreth began to run his hands up her thigh. His hands trailing up her skirt as he continued his assault on her neck. She couldn’t wait to proudly show off the love marks that would surely be present the next day. She then let out a gasp as she felt Garreth’s hand reach her underwear, already damp from the evening’s activities so far.

“Oh baby! You’re already so wet for me!” Garreth groaned out as he slipped his fingers under the waistband and through her folds. He began to sloppily rub circles into her, MC letting out a harsh moan in response.

She didn’t care one bit who heard her, the alcohol in her system dissolving any inhibitions or reservations she had. Garreth out a moan as well, reveling in the feeling of MC’s wetness that he was responsible for. He then dipped two fingers into her, MC letting out a sinful groan that likely could be heard from outside.

Garreth wasn’t gentle about it, harshly pumping his fingers in and out of her. She spread her legs further and lifted her skirt higher, giving Garreth more access to her. The sink was not a comfortable seat, but that was the last thing on her mind as she crawled closer and closer to an orgasm.

“You feel so good, darling! So tight. So perfect. If this is how your tight hole feels around my fingers I can’t wait to feel you around my cock!” Garreth growled out.

MC arched her back and cried out as her release hit from Garreth’s words. As her body spazzed from her release, she seemed to forget she was on a sink, arching her back in such a way that she slid off the sink and onto the floor, Garreth being far too drunk and horny to catch her in time.

“Oh shit! Darling are you alright?!”

Her ass hit the cold floor hard. She winced for a moment but then began to laugh. “Maybe the edge of the sink wasn’t the best choice. C’mon, let’s head to my bedroom in the Room of Requirement where we can have some fun on a soft surface!”

The pair stumbled out of the bathroom hand and hand, and made a very drunk trek over to the 7th floor of the astronomy tower.

—

When Garreth never returned to their dorm room last night, Leander rejoiced, knowing the night likely ended well. He knew him and MC were likely in the Room, MC having shown it to them both last term. On the way there, he ran into Sebastian, who was looking for MC himself. He was sporting several dark patches on his neck, which Leander couldn’t help but point out.

“Someone had a good night!”

“That I did.” He chuckled. “But it seems like our friends had a better night.” Sebastian replied.

They entered the Room to find them both still in bed wrapped in the covers, their clothes scattered across the floor. MC was sitting up rubbing Garreth’s back as he violently puked in a wastebasket he was hugging. She looked up at her friends with an exasperated look on her face before bursting into laughter.

It had been a good night indeed, and MC was looking forward to having more (less drunk) good nights with Garreth.

—————

#garreth weasley #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley smut #weasley wednesday

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sleeplesssmoll · 5 months

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Thank you for replying so fast! It’s really interesting that Vertin really did make such a gamble. Speaking of which, what is with the two moons? Is that the Storm Syndrome of the era? How is it related to the pop art thing we see happen?

Full disclosure before this: I adore Vernetto and I’m very much writing from the perspective of Vernetto Real, haha. So: I feel like Vertin and Sonetto’s relationship changes quite a bit throughout the story. In chapter 3, Vertin is the one who pursues Sonetto, but the dynamic is reversed (ha) later on. I often feel like Vertin has trouble identifying her own emotions regarding other people, and it makes me wonder if maybe she had a crush on Sonetto without realizing it when they were kids, giving her all sorts of things in an attempt to bond with her. It didn’t really work because Sonetto was so scared of anything from the outside, despite her natural curiosity. Then the breakaway happened, there was no chance for things to progress, and Vertin “moved on”.

I feel like it breaks Vertin’s heart to see Sonetto shut down her natural curiosity and interest in the outside world due to the Foundation’s indoctrination, but at the same time, Vertin doesn’t want to force her to change her views. Instead I think she is incredibly supportive and proud of Sonetto whenever she makes strides in the direction of independence. And of course she’s always happy to enable Sonetto when she wants to try things (I really cannot imagine a world where Vertin turned down Sonetto’s cheek kissing practice or bridge invitation!).

Also, do we know if the prologue is the first time Vertin and Sonetto have met each other since the breakaway, or if they’ve seen each other in between? Things like Sonetto’s birthday letter would maybe imply that it’s not the first time, right?

I want to know the last bit as much as you 😂 I'm assuming they stayed in touch but there isn't much to go off of. I really want to know what happened between the break away event and the intro.

Sonetto, how did you get from "damn it Vertin" to this puppy? Also, despite Sonetto scolding Vertin, she will still accept the gifts and never outright ignores her. If Vertin calls, she'll answer and I think that says something about her too.

Vertin once mentioned to Madam Z she knew she could depend on her because on that night long ago, she saw that madam z was not part of Constantine's game by the look in her eyes. She also doesn't force people to make choices they really don't want. For example, she gives Regulus options in the Suitcase after everything as proof of this. Like if Regulus wanted, she could have joined the Foundation which would make sense considering the whole experiment thing but they really are alike so that didn't happen. She stayed.

Going off of this, I think Vertin has high emotional intelligence but doesn't necessarily know the correct action to take. Especially since they were kids back then. Maybe she saw that curious spark Sonetto displays now and wanted to fuel it, hoping to bond over shared interests? Her perception is highlighted throughout the story. Perhaps she knew Sonetto doesn't actually hate her despite her frustrations? Gremlin energy. You love and you hate them.

As for the Storm Syndrome, yes I think the moons were a side effect of the Storm but I couldn't tell you exactly what it represented 🤔

From a shipping perspective, I l'm happy with any content with Vertin in it lol. As for the analysis of shipping dynamics, I like comparing opposite dynamics since it helps me refine the point I'm trying to make. On this case, it'd be Schneider.

While seeing Schneider's effect on Vertin is straightforward, Sonetto's true influence stood out to me when I backtracked.

From the moment they met, Schneider is described with a sort of romantic or pretty language. From her face to her scent, she's directly described in a delicate but deadly light. It really feels like she made a shift in Vertin's world in the short time they knew each other.

The context she thinks about Sonetto isn't highlighted with the same romanticism she applies to Schneieder, but she constantly appears in Vertin's thoughts. In Sonetto's case it's the small things that Vertin's always noticed but never forgets. Sonetto lives in her head rent free from her dreams (artificial somnambulism) to memories from their days as children.

From all the way back in the intro, Vertin makes references to their school days when she meets Sonetto. Like the way Sonetto looks up at the sky and takes a deep breath before combat or the determined expression is the same kind she makes before an exam. While Schneider made a huge impact in a moment, Sonetto's presence quietly persisted in her mind for a long time.

In simpler terms:

Schneider was the one who shook her world.

Sonetto is her Roman Empire.

I might have more dynamics to work with in the future and this is subject to change as the character develop but I hope this is useful for your story! Good luck! 👍

#anon ask #vertin #sonetto #schneider #reverse1999

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aita-blorbos · 1 month

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AITA for ruining a family dinner?

Hey, I (M, Young Adult) accidentally fucked up my family’s dinner party today. So like, my sister brought her boyfriend’s family over because she wanted our families to like eachother before they would admit they would get married. The problem? He’s NORMAL (ew), and our family, is NOTHING like that.

Know why would I be mad about this? Well, my sister loved to torture me (still does), and I love the pain that comes from it (NOT IN A GROSS SEX WAY.. EW.). But I’m scared she will instead torture her husband more, or worse, what if she never tortures me again? Luckily, my witch-like grandma had a little potion on her cart that I swiped while she wasn’t looking.

So my father was explaining one of the games we play after dinner, “Full Disclosure.” Where we all take turns taking drinks from the family chalice and then telling the truth, and absolute truth to the table. After my father, uncle, and grandma went, My mother was pressuring my sister to do her full disclosure, and while they did that, I snuck under the table and grabbed the chalice.

And then, when a dash of the potion, I wanted my sister to lose her cool. I hoped that in slow motion, she’d drop, she’d drool! And that after the spell everything would change. And I thought “Boy oh boy, her full disclosure’s gonna be strange.”

But as she was being pressured to drink the chalice I just poured the potion into, her smart ass boyfriend instead hands it over to his coughing mom, who drinks it without thinking. This caused her to start going crashing and telling her husband she was gonna be in charge of things now. This lead to the boyfriend’s dad saying they were leaving, my sister admitting she was gonna get married, and my mother fighting with my father because he kept one secret about my sister’s marriage from her.

Yes, I did it for a selfish reason, but I only wanted her to torture me more! Wadd’ya say, AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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knowlesian · 2 years

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okay: let’s talk candied melon silk moths, everybody. because holy shit, did i just blow my own fucking mind upon this very night.

full disclosure: i had this shit planned out a little before i sat down to google. i’d start with a little light ‘i’m not a bug-ologist, buuuuut’ joke and then synthesize what i’d read on google into a readable bit of moth fact/history before moving onto Considering The Humble Moth.

but ofmd has ruined that. because here’s the thing: there is no such thing as a candied melon silk moth.

now, the rosy maple moth? that moth exists, and their habitat stretches well past st. augustine down to nearly the tip of florida. they’re apparently the smallest kind of silk moths, which seems Not An Accident given the way this show is playing with toxic masculinity and expectations surrounding it.

they were classified in 17-fucking-93, because of course they were. by johan christian fabricius, which is just a really fucking cool name. i don’t make these rules. (i did some light research on him and it ended in Very Interesting/The Kind of Problematic You’d Expect From A Man Named That Doing Science-y Things Around Then places, so i’m gonna do more there later.)

for now, the basics. this level of detail and then a last minute hard swerve into We Do What We Want, Fuck You means they did the work: they didn’t just slap together some latin and make up a name and call it a day to avoid paying... moth copyright????

they tracked down an interesting moth, did their research on it, and then cackled with glee as they changed one very important letter and made up their own goddamned moth, because it’s all fuckery here. masks on masks on masks, all of them a little bit real just because we put them on and went about our day.

and because ofmd looks at history, at traditional power structures and the crushing weight they put on every single one of us living under them, and asks: why? and what if it weren’t like that?

in the real world, these were not the men we are watching fall in love; the real ed and stede did horrible fucking things. they were, in colloquial terms, The Bad Guys.

but what if they were these men, instead? what if we stole their names and histories and pasted our stories on their fucking faces. what IF we colonized the colonizers and made them dance to our fucking tunes, this time?

what if nobody had to define themselves against what they aren’t? what if a rosy maple moth was a candied melon silk moth because fuck you for saying it can’t be different, this time of all times?

so fuckin’ yeah. there’s THAT, which really put a spin on how i planned to organize this meta. i mean: what do i DO with that shit???? that’s fucking insane. i’m gonna fight these people. fight them with my TEARS because they have pushed my love over the borderline. feels like i’m going to lose my mind, & etc.

what the fuuuuuuuck.

that little mental/song break over, onto what i knew i was going to talk about.

first: that they used a moth at all. we have a lot invested in the butterfly as an image/metaphor as a culture. at worst it’s a literal started ugly, ended up beautiful thing, at best it’s about metamorphosis and transition/transformation and the revealing of a true self (things ofmd is also very interested in) but the physical beauty part is always lurking there in the subtext, making things a liiiiittttle bit weird.

this particular moth also happens to be legit cute as fuck, but we don’t attach that kind of beauty baggage to moths. instead, our favorite moth metaphor is about danger. moths to a flame, we say, because we are REAL scared of warmth and pleasure. (and emotional risk, understandably.)

and oh look! ed and stede, moths to each other’s flame; these two are drawn together, the way whole crew is drawn together, by accident and irresistibly until they're a family in ways they couldn’t have planned for or ever anticipated. none of them started out in the same place, some of them didn’t start out speaking the same languages, a lot of them are still on the way to figuring out who they are: but here they are. drawn together in their various states, anyway.

(puts the fire at the heart of stede’s liminal space ship in new context, huh? fuck this stupid show.)

but here’s where it gets real weird: that’s a silk moth.

stede, privileged and still in his cocoon not quite With It stede, holds in his hands the creature responsible for the red handkerchief ed’s mother was tricked into believing god didn’t want people like them to have. and he offers it up to ed, entirely clueless of the resonance he holds in his hands, eager to share it without even knowing the fucking magic he is capable of conjuring for a million reasons fair and unfair, systemic and personal: the means of fuckin’ production.

because god doesn’t decide who gets silk, rich fuckers don’t decide who gets silk.

no silk moths, no silk from those moths.

fuck god and fuck rich people: drill down to the absolute core, the humble moth holds the actual power here.

and that moth gives no shits about these stupid rules. the moth doesn’t give a single solitary fuck if ed has a piece of silk or the king of england has that same exact piece, because of fucking course it doesn’t. ‘deserve’? fuck that. the moth isn’t like oh GOLLY i hope somebody with class puts me on. somebody with a full bank account. those people deserve me: nobody else.

the people who benefit most made up those rules about who gets what and why they get it, and now for some reason a lot of us help enforce it without any hope of feasting on their crumbs.

and if you think about it we made up god, technically, because we invented words and belief structures and intricate rituals to explain this gnawing ache and loneliness inside just as much as the surge of impossible hope or unshakeable, inexplicable sense of Something More. and none of us can prove entirely the others are wrong, even though many of us will kill and die to insist otherwise.

either way, this i know for sure: we definitely fucking made up money.

so stede’s got his cute little metaphor moth perched on his finger, eagerly offering it for inspection. he is literally offering up to ed the means of production for the object that represents his heart.

and the kicker: he doesn’t even know it’s happening.

(neither of them do. not yet.)

i mean. this fucking show is just ridiculous.

i’m sure there’s a Lot More here, and i want to keep writing about how they use stede’s privilege/wealth in this fascinating way where it informs his character for good and ill and functions as a commentary on the unfortunate reality that sometimes people who will one day show amazing solidarity start from a place of good-hearted Not Having A Clue, and then move and grow from there as they see more of the world and watch the people they love experience pain in ways they never anticipated. but that’s an adjacent lane and another piece of writing!!!

so for now: fuck this show, and let us continue to consider the Humble Silk Moth i guess.

#our flag means death #my ofmd meta #i'm so mad at this fucking show all the time #like i am sure i will wake up at four am and go FUCK ME I MISSED THIS OBVIOUS THING #for now: the emotional scream i will call a freewrite #fuck this team. FUCK EM #ugh i will be thinking about the moth ALL NIGHT

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newtonsheffield · 11 months

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is author!kate a little bit insecure on herself?? her body???when they were at the university???? i ask this because show kate is more confident on herself but book kate has that issue of not thinking she is pretty enought, not pretty as edwina so im wondering if maybe this kate had that thing, idk why i feel that vibe ...

I don’t think so, I think that she met Anthony that day and they kept bickering about books and writers and a hundred other things and then they kind of became friends and Kate slowly fell in love with the smile in Anthony’s eyes and the delight in his voice when he spoke to his little sister in the phone and the way he lost himself in writing for hours at a time in the library. And she thought maybe Anthony liked her too, but he never made a move. And she never did either, too scared to lose their friendship. So she started dating someone else, and then they left Oxford and she really never thought she’d see him again. She almost forgot the little noise he made when he had the first sip of his tea, and she forgot the way he’d roll his eyes when she asked for his sweater when they sat together in the library, and she almost forgot the sound of his laugh.

Until she read his book. And she remembered all of it, when she slapped it on her boss’s desk:

“You need to buy this book. Full disclosure, I went to uni with him, and I haven’t seen him in years but I’m 10 pages in, and you do not want to miss out on this.”

#you never called it what it was #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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newtthetranswriter · 6 months

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Bakusquad comfort

Total word count: 3323

Parings: Bakusquad(minus sero) X Transmasculine! reader

Summary: Monoma is a dick, outing you to the entirety of classes A and B. How does the Bakusquad comfort you?

Warnings: Transphobia, Monoma is Dick, talks of binding and testosterone, canon typical violence mentioned, Monoma is an ass, some cursing, I think that’s it let me know if you notice more.

A/n: This is just a few little drabbels of how different members of the bakusquad respond to a Transmasculine reader being outed by Monoma, full disclosure I do not like Monoma fight me on it. Anyway some of them may be a little ooc but I haven’t written for them yet so this is what i got. Can be read as platonic or not. Enjoy, and remember to Hydrate or Diedrate. REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Being a student at U.A. has been a dream come true. I’ve been able to use it as a new start, people know me as Y/n the guy who has an earth manipulation quirk and not the girl who thinks she’s a guy. The only reason I say that is that none of my classmates know I’m Transgender. I haven’t told anyone, not because I'm embarrassed but because I’m scared of how they will react to the truth, especially with how long I’ve kept it from them. I feel like I’m lying to them in a way but I don’t want them to hate me for it, so I’ve just kept quiet. I’m sure I’ll tell them when I’m ready.

On a different note I do truly feel like I belong here, like people see the real me, a fun, energetic guy who just wants to help people. The group I hang out with the most is the Bakusquad, consisting of Bakugo, Kirishima, Mina, Denki, Sero and Me. We are a strange group for sure, being unofficially led by the stubborn Bakugo, and the rest of us being somewhat over energetic, but we get along well. Having movie nights in the living room of the dorms, and messing with Bakugo in our free time. I couldn’t ask for better friends.

Though everything came falling apart when we went to training ground gamma to face off against class B. We had been separated into 5 groups per class and paired off for battles. I had been placed in the fourth group and so I had to sit back with the rest of the students as group one started their match. We had for the most part stayed with our own classes, not mingling too much, just commenting on strategies and predicted outcomes.

Everything seemed fine until the match ended and the teachers were prepping for the second match. Neito Monoma decided to pop off with some absolute bullshit.

“The scum of Class A only one because of Shinso, I bet if it was the other way around Class B would have prevailed. Class A isn’t anything special.” He said with a laugh not caring that he was being a dick. “I would wager the rest of the matches will be a clean sweep.”

As the second set of teams left, I started getting irritated because he just kept going. Going as far as to insult Aoyama. I couldn’t take it anymore, and I snapped. “You know, even if he doesn't have great control of his quirk, Aoyama is ten times the hero you will ever be. So why don’t you shut your pathetic mouth and be respectful.” I said getting in his face, surprising the rest of the students around us.

Realizing we had everyone’s attention, Monoma decided to take advantage of the situation. “Oh, the liar of Class A wants to lecture me on respect.” He laughed out, confusing everyone including myself. “You think you’ve been sneaky about everything, but I figured it out. Visiting Recovery Girl every few months to fix your ribs, the giant hoodies you wear in the evening when you walk around campus, and the pharmacy deliveries every couple weeks. It’s a miracle your class hasn’t figured you out yet, but then again they aren’t the brightest.” Those comments wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else but I knew exactly what he meant. I watched in silent horror as my classmates tried to figure it out, and he just smirked. “That’s right Class A your dear Y/n has been lying to you this entire time. SHE is transgender and has been lying to you about it. Wanting you to believe she is just a normal guy going to school to be a hero, But how can you be a hero if all you do is lie to your so-called friends.” He announced to both classes, outing me to everyone.

I froze for only a second before bolting out of the training grounds, ignoring the commotion that was caused and the calls from my teachers to come back and work things out. One of my biggest fears just came true, and they wanted me to talk it out in front of everyone, not happening. I was going back to my dorm and locking myself in, no one should have to see me after finding out I lied to them for months.

Bakugo

Word count: 662

I had barely shut the door to my room before I heard near constant banging on the door. “Go away, I’m not talking about this.” I shouted at the person, moving to hide under the covers of my bed.

The banging continued for a moment before I heard a very familiar sigh. “Open the door right now you damn extra, or I’ll blow it up.” There was no mistaking that It was Bakugo on the other side especially when sparks followed the statement.

Rushing to the door I swung it open right as he raised his hand to blow it up. “Don’t break my door. Now what do you want? To tell me that I’m a horrible person for lying to you, tell me you want nothing to do with me? Or let me guess tell me I’m mentally ill and should be in a mental institution?” I ranted out moving into my room, not noticing the tears rolling down my face.

Hearing heavy foot falls behind me I turned back to Bakugo as he approached me. “You know for one of the top members of our class you can be dumber than dunceface.” He said, reaching up, wiping the tears from my face. “Why would I be mad at you for keeping any of this a secret? It’s completely reasonable, you had no idea how any of us would react. I just wanted to make sure you really are ok.” I was relieved he wanted to check on me and wasn’t mad at me, but now I’m mad at myself.

“I just feel so stupid. How could I be so reckless that fucking Monoma was able to figure it out? It’s not like I was trying to hide everything, but I kept my binders out of sight when you guys would visit my room, wore oversized hoodies when I had to take a break, tried to dispose of my T supplies where no one would see it, and visited recovery girl when no one was around. How on earth did he notice any of it?” I started ranting again.

Taking me by surprise, he pulled me into his chest to shut me up. “Everyone makes mistakes, that weasel probably caught you on bad days when you thought no one was around.” Bakugo said. “But you really are stupid if you think no one else figured it out.” I could tell this comment wasn’t malicious but more of just stating facts, though I was confused by what he meant. Sensing my confusion he continued, “I started to piece things together at the training camp when it was super warm in the evening but you insisted on wearing a hoodie, and slept in a separate room from all the guys. At first I thought you were just being weird, but then we got movies to the dorms and you always wear a hoodie around the living room even when most of us chill with t-shirts. I put everything together and figured something happened in the past to make it hard to open up, so I never said anything figuring you would tell people when you were ready.” That was the most I had hear Bakugo talk in a long while.

Not sure how to respond I just let out a quiet “thank you” Before he started talking again. “And don’t worry about that pompous ass who tried to embarrass you. The rest of the extras have promised to show him how Class A sticks together, even the nerd. For now let's just relax, movie night just you and me, ok?” I nodded as he led me to sit on my bed. He was about to step out of my room to grab snacks before he turned back to me, “While I’m getting snacks, you need to take off your hero costume and get into something comfortable. That includes taking off your binder.” He said matter-of-factly as he left leaving no room to argue.

Kirishima

Word count: 660

I had been in my room for about ten minutes when I heard a gentle knock at the door. Not wanting to face anyone's disappointment I just curled further into my blankets. It was silent for a few seconds before there was another knock followed by a gentle voice. “Hey Y/n, I know you probably don’t want to talk about what happened but I brought some chocolate and some tea if you want it?” It was Kirishima, he was always so kind to everyone and worried about everyone’s feelings no matter what.

Reluctantly I stood up from my bed and slowly opened the door, the thought of candy and tea did sound relaxing. As soon as the door opened Kiri pushed his way in, setting the tea on my desk and pulling me into a hug. “Listen you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to know that no one is upset with you over this. In fact I think Bakugo was being held back by Midorya when I left, he looked like he was gonna blow up Monoma.” He said with a sincere chuckle. “I know that nothing can fix what he did or change what he said, but we all love you just the way you are. It is the manliest thing ever to face the world and tell it ‘screw you I’m not who you say I should be, I’m me.’ I hope you know that.” He pulled back and wiped the few tears I didn’t realize I had shed from my checks. “You are the manliest person I know, now go change into some pajamas and I'll get stuff set up to watch a movie, ok?” He gently nudged me towards the door.

I nodded, grabbing my pajamas, and stepping out of the room towards the bathroom. Changing out of my hero costume was difficult today, hating that I had to take my binder off because it’s not safe to sleep in it, after what happened during training I didn’t want to face that part of me. Eventually I got into my baggy pajamas, and was about to head back to my room when I realized I forgot my hoodie. It’s not that I didn’t feel comfortable with Kirishima now that he knew the truth, I just needed the comfort of it. Deciding that I had to leave the bathroom either way I opened the door only to pause when I saw a red hoodie folded up on the floor. I quickly picked it up and put it on.

Entering my room I couldn't help but ask about it. “Is this your hoodie Kiri?”

The redhead just smiled before responding. “I noticed you forgot to grab one of your hoodies before you went to change and I figured from all the time you wear them, they make you comfortable, so I decided to bring you one. I couldn’t find one of yours though so I just grabbed one of mine. It's ok if you don’t want to wear it, I just thought it would make you feel more comfortable.” He rambled for a minute and I couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness.

“It’s great, thank you. If it’s ok I’d like to wear it for the rest of the day, I promise I’ll give it back after I get a chance to clean it for you.” I said sitting next to where he was sitting on my bed.

He just laughed, “Don’t worry about it, you can keep it if you want.” He then leaned on the headboard of my bed before starting the first of many movies of the evening. “Just relax, and don’t worry about training, Aizawa said you have a pass for today's exercise because of all that happened.” he informed me as I leaned into his side. Deciding that I needed a nap after everything, I drifted off knowing that my friends had my back no matter what.

Denki

Word count:625

Heading for the dorms I lost focus on what was going on around me. I just wanted to reach my room and close myself off. In my haze I didn’t notice the lip in the sidewalk until it was too late. I braced for impact only to feel a pair of hands grab my shoulder and pull me up right. Turning around I was faced with the blonde hair of everyone’s favorite pikachu. Not wanting to face anyone in my class, not even my closest friend, I pushed him away and went to head back to the dorm, only for him to grab my wrist.

“Hey stop, I know what happened was bullshit but locking yourself in your room isn’t going to fix it. The truth is out there and you need to talk about it.” It was harsh but the truth, and I didn;t want to face it, but before I could respond Denki beat me to it. “Don’t deny that you were going to hide hoping we would all forget or ignore it. We don’t care that you’re trans, we just want you to be safe, and knowing you now that you’re upset you are going to be dumb. So, we are going to go back to the dorms, you are going to grab a hoodie and sweatpants, then shower. After that we are going to go sit in my room and A) talk about how you’re feeling or B) raid Sato’s candy stash and watch cheesy movies until Bakugo yells at us to go to sleep, understand?” He said with a completely straight face. Out of everyone I didn’t think he would be the one to be so serious.

Not wanting to argue, I nodded and let him lead me to Heights Alliance. He waited in the doorway of my room while I grabbed my change of clothes and then stood outside the bathroom while I showered. It was somewhat comforting knowing he was there waiting for me, like he was worried something would happen and wanted to protect me. As I stepped out of the bathroom he looked me up and down with a raised eyebrow. “What are you looking at?” I was confused by the quizzical gaze.

“Not to sound creepy but please prove you didn’t put your binder back on after your shower? I was doing research while you were showering and everything says you need breaks from it and shouldn’t sleep in them.” He paused for a second before blushing. “Not that I’m asking you to show me your chest just like maybe show me that your binder is in your pile of dirty clothes that’s in your hand?” He rushed out, it was obvious he was just concerned for my safety and wanted to make sure I was being safe.

I couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered state. As I walked past him, I grabbed the requested article from the middle of the pile and held it up. “I did not put my binder back on, I may be upset but I know my limits.” I said as I heard him rush to follow me, hearing a small ‘ok good’ from the blonde. “But thank you for looking out for me. When we get to your room I think I just want to watch some movies. If that’s ok with you?” I asked as he caught up with me.

He gave me a thumbs up and a quick smile. “ Ofcourse, whatever you want to do is fine with me. Just remember that whenever you’re ready to talk I’m here for you.” With that he led me to his room and we settled in for an afternoon of movies and raiding different classmates' rooms for snacks.

Mina

Word count:638

As I rushed up the steps of Heights Alliance I heard the shouts of my pink best friend. “Wait Y/n, slow down.” Having an internal debate with myself I froze for a second, unintentionally giving the normally bubbly girl a chance to catch up with me. “Hey, are you ok? Do you want to talk about it?” Mina asked as she lightly grabbed my shoulders.

Looking anywhere but her I let everything out. “How can you stand to talk to me, why are you worried? I lied to you, all of you. I can’t call myself a hero if I can’t even tell my closest friends that I’m transgender. Don’t get me wrong I wanted to tell you all, I really did but the right time never showed itself. And I would understand if none of you wanted to be my friend anymore, or if you even wanted me to leave. Just tell me now if that’s what everyone wants, I’ll understand and go pack my stuff.” I let out with tears rolling down my face.

It was silent for a moment, worried that Mina had just decided to leave during my rant. I turned to face her, being greeted with the sight of my best friend attempting to hold back tears. “What makes you think we would want you to leave? Everyone is worried about you. I’m pretty sure even Ida was about to punch that asshole. No one and I mean no one thinks you’re a monster or a liar. You didn’t tell us when we first met for a reason, and you’re right there was never a good time to bring something like that up, but I’m positive you would have found a good time to tell us. So stay here and keep having fun learning and training with us please? And if this is the only thing you take from this, know that I love you just the way you are, whether you are Y/n the guy who like pissing off Bakugo and stealing fancy cheesy from Aoyama, or if you are Y/n the guy who is trans and proud of himself for it. Even if you still want to keep it on the down low and want people to ignore it for now, I’m proud of you, and everything you have been through.” She said tears were rolling down her face as she went on. It was shocking to hear such emotions and statements about the situation.

Not being sure what to say I wiped my eyes before collecting my thoughts. “Thank you, Mina. I’m sorry I blew up on you like that, it’s just so frustrating having you all find out in such a way. I wanted to tell you, and I just never got to it. I think for now I want to just process the fact that it’s out there now and wrap my head around it.” She just responded with a nod, signaling me to keep going. “Would you mind just sitting with me for a while in my room while I work things out in my head, you can watch movies and eat my snacks if you want. I just don’t think I should be alone with my thoughts right now.” I said looking towards the doors we were stopped in front of, realizing that we both had mini breakdowns outside where anyone could see us.

Mina smiled gently as she reached to open the doors. “Take whatever time you need. When you’re ready to talk let me know. And I’ll gladly sit with you, But first I’m grabbing face masks and nail polish from my room and we are going to have a relaxing friends night once you decide you’ve had enough thinking for the day.” She said returning to her normal bubbly self.

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e-dubbc11 · 8 months

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Thank You for 400!!

Celebration Anyone?

Pic isn’t mine. Found it on Pinterest.

Greetings lovelies from my little blog!

Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who follows me, comments and reblogs my fics, throws a ♥️ at anything I post/write or sends a tag game my way.

To my pocket friends that I chat with on the regular and sometimes not so regular, you always bring a smile to my face when I see your messages.

I know interaction has been down here in the Tumblr-verse lately but I’ve decided to do a celebration anyway. I hope you’ll come say hello and drop something in my inbox ♥️

I don’t really have a name or a theme for this celebration so I’ll just say thank you again and the rules will be under the cut.

This isn’t limited to my followers, although I would love it if you did.

My two muses I write for are Matt Murdock and Billy Russo, although there are a few characters that I wouldn’t mind trying to write for ( Dean Winchester, Donald Pierce, Quinn McKenna, Brock Rumlow, but I’m really scared to. Maybe I just need a nudge 🤣

Send in as many as you’d like

Fuck, Marry, Kiss (or Kill if you wanna make it interesting) I’ll do characters from the following…

MCU

Supernatural

Netflix Series ( DD, Punisher, Defenders)

Boyd Holbrook characters

Ben Barnes characters

Fall Activity Moodboard 🍁🍂🎃👻🍺

It’s getting to be my favorite time of the year in my neck of the woods. I love everything about autumn. This one is for mutuals only OR if you have ever reblogged and commented on any of my fics.

Send in any character with a fall activity (apple picking, Halloween related, cider tasting, etc.) and I’ll make a moodboard for you

Song Lyric Prompt

Full disclosure, I am not a new music girl. I probably stopped listening to newer music around 10 years ago. But I love anything from the 80’s thru early 2010’s. (I love older music too from the 60’s and 70’s)

Send me a character and a song lyric (from those time periods) and I’ll see what it inspires me to write

Miscellaneous

Send me a character plus a fluffy or smexy gif and I can try to write a drabble/fic based off of that gif

Pick a scene from a fic of mine and I’ll write it from the other person’s POV.

Prompt Lists

I’ll leave some prompt/dialogue lists below and if something strikes your fancy, send it on over with one of my muses (or challenge me with a new one from the above list) and I’ll see what I can do with it. Or if you have one in mind not on these lists, that’s absolutely fine also.

Confessions of Feelings

Kiss Prompts

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue/Prompts

Random Dialogue Prompts

Autumn/Fall Dialogue/Scenarios

I’ll keep this open until September 16 CLOSED

Again, thank you all for following me, for commenting on my fics, just all of the things! Nothing goes unnoticed, I promise you ♥️ Everyone’s support means a lot to me and I hope you continue to like the content I put out. ♥️

Tagging some of my lovelies that always cheer me on and hug me from afar whenever I need it, thank you again!

@mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @munsonownsmyass @ilovewhiteroses @ruflirtingwithme @russosafehaven @qu1etwolf @kayhi808 @k-marzolf @wheresthesunshinesblog @danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fictional-hooman @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @mattmurdocksscars @theradioactivespidergwen @skvatnavle @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @music-indie-tv @idaofinfinity @vaguekayla @pedrito-friskito @wint3r-h3art @freshabogados @gijos @nutmeg17 @jvanilly

#ericca’s 400 celebration #come say hi #i don’t bite #thank you!!#❤️❤️❤️#lovely friends #my friends are the sweetest #I really can’t believe 400 of you follow me #wow #seriously thank you

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storiesbyrhi · 2 years

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Angel of the First Degree - Chapter 12: Villains

Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader 5748 words Series Masterlist

Warnings: Anxiety; fatphobia including internalised; drug use; bullying; body issues; discussion of body function and fluids; period shame/stigma; disclosure of sexual assault (chapter 2); disordered eating and thoughts of food; shitty/abusive/critical parents; porn magazines; smut; reference to suicide (specifically Virginia Woolf’s); no beta; grief/mourning; verbal fighting; warnings updated each chapter

Synopsis: When Eddie Munson finds you in the midst of a panic attack, it is the beginning of something. A fic featuring body and sex positivity, Eddie in a dress, soft small moments, scary big truths, and all the usual special feelings you’d expect from one of my stories.

Chapter Summary: The Seniors graduate. It’s the beginning of the end…

Author’s Note: I am not American so I straight up forgot ‘Thanksgiving’ exists. Casually skipping over it. Also, shoutout to anyone that saw the end note of last chapter before I caught the mistake; I put the end note for this chapter in it too lmaoooo.

Eddie’s hair wouldn’t fit under the graduation cap.

“Maybe if I, like, pin it on?” you thought out loud.

“Pin?!” Eddie screeched.

“Not safety pin. Hair pin,”

“Oh.”

Flattening some of the cap, you managed to get it to sit stable on his head. You smoothed his robes and took a step back.

“Don’t look at me like,” he mumbled, turning to leave.

“Eddie. Stop. Come here.” Taking his face in your hands, you smiled at him. Positively beamed. “You did it,”

“Yeah, yeah,”

“No. No, don’t do that. This is big. You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,”

“Oh, yeah, super proud of being a twenty-year-old high schooler,”

“First of all, you weren’t really trying before, were you? And, even if you were, you know better than anyone that this is all…” You shrugged. “It doesn’t work for everyone. School is… a…” There was an exact phrase Eddie had used before. What was it?

“Rigged system,”

“Yes! It’s rigged, right? So, who cares how long it took you to get here.”

Eddie nodded and gave in to the feeling of accomplishment.

When you and Eddie appeared in the lounge room, Wayne had to bite his tongue. He was going to cry and he’d never hear the end of it. “We ready then?” he asked.

You nodded and headed for the door. As you climbed the steps, you heard Wayne whisper a, “Proud of you, son,” to Eddie and it filled you with supreme love.

Wayne took his car, so that you and Eddie could head to the graduation afterparty straight from Hawkins High.

“Can I ask you something?”

You frowned, threw Eddie a suspicious expression. “Yeah…?”

“I know we talked about it, but… are you absolutely sure you don’t want-”

“I’m sure,” you interrupted.

Eddie was the absolute last person to want anything to do with your parents, but he was scared you’d regret not having them at your high school graduation. They would have got the invite in the mail, like all parents did. However, they hadn’t called or stopped by to talk to you about it. The one time Eddie asked if you wanted to reach out to them about it, you shut the conversation down fast.

Eddie nodded. “Okay.”

Later, when you crossed the stage and accepted your diploma, both Eddie and Wayne stood from their respective seats far apart. Eddie cheered ridiculously and you felt loved. Despite yourself, you glanced at the rest of the crowd. They weren’t there.

When it was Eddie’s turn, he got a standing ovation from Jeff and Gene, and Dustin – who had sneaked in and sat at the back of the crowd. For all the endless promises of flipping Principal Higgins the bird, Eddie didn’t. He blushed. Always full of surprises.

After the ceremony, Wayne presented you with a bouquet of peonies and Eddie a teddy bear, head only as big as a D20, wearing a little graduation cap. It was on a chain, ready to hang from the van’s rearview mirror.

The afternoon was cold, and the congratulations and pride only warmed you all so much. Wayne headed home, peonies accompanying him so they’d be safely put in a vase of water. You and Eddie headed to Chrissy Cunningham’s house for the only party where the entire cohort was welcomed. ’86, baby.

…

“So, high school graduate, what do you want to do with your newfound freedom?” you asked Eddie.

You were sitting on the floor of the bedroom a week or so after graduation, going through your notes and textbooks to see if there was anything worth keeping. Eddie had slept late, his light snoring and occasional sleep-babble the soundtrack of your morning. It was nice, just existing with no plans. No deadlines. No responsibilities.

Eddie shuffled his way to the edge of the mattress and peered down at your mess, no intention to ask what you were doing.

“Thought we would… go shopping,” he said, voice still croaky with sleep. He cleared it, then added, “Like we talked about,”

“Talked about? When?”

You honestly couldn’t recall one instance where you and Eddie had planned on going shopping. What could he possibly need?

“Ah, in the hotel. After the dance.”

Eddie watched you look up and frown at him, the cogs in your mind clicking and turning with thought. It was visible on your face when you remembered.

“Oh,”

“If you still want to,”

“I do,” you confirmed, nodding. Butterflies spawned in your tummy.

Since the dance, you and Eddie had spent a significant amount of time in bed, to the point where you knew each other’s bodies as well as your own. However, you had yet to feel as confident as you did that night. There was something about the novelty of the hotel room and the big event and all the fuss that made it seem… not real. Returning to everyday life, to the bed you shared with Eddie, to casual clothing, took some adjustment.

The ride to Lafayette started quietly as you played with your ruby ring and watched the sprawling Indiana landscape speed passed. Soon enough, Eddie had begun telling you about Jason Newsted, hardly taking a breath between sentences.

“You remember that album I played for you? The debut? Doomsday for the Deceiver? Well, the bassist for them is joining Metallica, after, you know, Cliff. Apparently, he learnt their whole setlist.”

No, you didn’t remember the debut record. Flotsam and Jetsam were only one of the dozens of bands Eddie introduced you to in an attempt to indoctrinate you into the metal life. Still, you nodded, and listened. You loved Eddie all the time, but when he got all revved up and excited, it was a sight to behold. He talked all the way to Lafayette.

“You sure about this?” Eddie asked when he pulled up out the front of Love Shack.

The name alone made you feel hot with embarrassment; still, you nodded to him and got out of the van. Eddie took your hand and lead you inside, all bravado and pep.

“Woah, woah, woah there Van fuckin’ Halen. Gotta be 18 to be in here,” a guy that looked like he moonlighted as a proper biker called from the register. “You look the part, but your girl there…?”

“She’s of age,” Eddie said, looking to you as you fished your ID out.

You’d skipped a grade in elementary school, turning 18 a week before the ill-fated 7 Minutes in Heaven party at the end of Junior year. The guy checked your ID, nodded, and handed it back. “First time huh?”

You nodded, afraid that your voice would come out broken or strained.

“Not for me. Just showing her the sights,” Eddie told the man.

“Right. Leave you to it then,” and he did just that.

Wherever Eddie went, you were close behind, looking at things you had never even thought could possibly exist. Things that made you feel bad and gross. Things that made you curious. Things that made you laugh. Things that made you all tingly and warm.

There was nobody else in the store and the music the right volume to cover any awkward silence well. The guy at the counter was reading a book, not paying any mind to the two of you. You felt comfortable enough to separate from Eddie, look around on your own. Bravely, you even flipped through a couple of magazines.

You stopped to read a poster, big cutesy letters spelling out ‘kitten playset’ catching your eye. The poster girl was on her knees, but sat back on her legs. She had pastel-coloured lacey cuffs, ornamental and sweet. Her collar matched, with a small heart-shaped tag with her name dangling from it. Cat ears sat on her head and the fur was the same as that in the tail that came from behind her, although you couldn’t tell where the tail was actually pinned to her.

“Found anything interesting?” Eddie asked, making you jump a little. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,”

“It’s okay. Just wondering… Never mind,” you told him dismissively, shrugging.

“It’s one of these, but like, with the tail,” Eddie said. You turned around and watched him pick up a small object. It had a suction cap on one end, and was made of silicon or soft plastic. You knew what it did without having to be told.

“Oh,” was all you offered him. Your focus felt cloudy while your mind filled in the blanks and showed you the kitten playset in many forms.

Eddie put down the anal plug and took your hand, moving to show you the wall of vibrators. “I think we just… start small. Simple.”

Ultimately, you picked a vibrator that required two batteries. It was small, around 10 centimeters in length. Plain black. Functional. Good for beginners. The guy at the counter processed the sale with the type of disinterest that put people buying sex toys at ease.

Eddie wore a stupid fucking grin all the way home.

…

“Welcome to Build-a-Bear, have you visited us before?” Kasey asked. You recognised her immediately, but she’d stitched together countless bears between Hellfire and Angel and your second visit.

With the money Wayne presented at breakfast, you and Eddie took a trip to the mall. Eddie picked up his new guitar strings and spent some time talking to the guys in the music store. You wandered around, pressing the odd piano key here and there.

At Build-a-Bear you picked a scruffy looking bear and named him Guthrie, in honor of Wayne. At breakfast, he’d given you strict orders not to recreate him in teddy form. Guthrie felt like a fitting alternative. Eddie carried the bear out of the store on his shoulders, a piggyback for a plushie.

“Alright, need anythin’ else while we’re here,” Eddie asked, casually looking around.

Across the mall, you spotted Hayley and some of the now-graduated cheerleaders. What do you call a cheerleader who doesn’t cheer? Are they just girls? Young women? Will they grow and change and regret the callousness of their past?

Hayley locked eyes with you. Fear ran down your spine, an automatic reaction to a situation you’d been in so many times before. But, high school was over. Hayley held no power over you anymore. It was like she knew it, she simply looked away, turned back to the magazine in her hand.

Eddie hadn’t noticed but had clocked Chrissy walking in your direction.

“Uh, on your nine,” he said, taking Guthrie off his shoulders and grabbing your hand. “Wanna go?”

“No, it’s okay,” you answered, turning in Chrissy’s direction.

“Um, hi,” she said, stopping a safe distance from you and Eddie. Her eyes flicked from you to him, then back to the ground. Chrissy gathered her thoughts and looked up. “I… I wanted to say something at the grad party, but… I, um, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

It threw you a bit, your hand tightening around Eddie’s. You could feel his pricky energy beside you, ready to jump in the moment you needed.

When you said nothing, Chrissy continued. “I’m sorry for not being a better friend. What happened to you last year was… bad… And, um… I should have said something. I should have stopped Hayley too. I just…”

“I know,” you told her. “I get it.” Honestly, you did. Chrissy’s mother could have easily rivaled your own in the cruelty department. You’d seen how she spoke to Chrissy about her appearance, about cheering, and her grades. About Jason. About going to church. About her future. About everything.

“I know… I know you do… That’s why I should have been a better friend…” Chrissy left ‘we could have helped each other’ unsaid. “I’m happy you found…” She looked at Eddie, unsure what to call him and his Hellfire friends. “Good people,”

“…Thanks. I hope you do too,” you replied genuinely.

Chrissy smiled, soft and sad, then gave an awkward wave and left. You watched her for a moment more, before looking up at Eddie. His eyes were still glued to her.

“Lot more lost sheep out there than there should be,” he said, his voice slow and quiet, an indicator that a thought got lost from point A to B, finding its way out his mouth before he could stop it.

“Yeah.”

You hoped Chrissy would be okay. That she’d live a long and happy life, find something better than the family she was born into, better than Jason, better than Hawkins.

Eddie took a breath in, sharp and sudden. Then, “Alright. Let’s go, angel. I’m fucking starving.”

After lunchtime pancakes at the diner in town, you made your way back to the trailer. Wayne had left for work already, so you were alone.

“Do you think it’s too early for Christmas movies?” Eddie asked as you plonked yourself down on the couch and kicked off your shoes.

“You like Christmas movies?”

Eddie was shaking his jacket down his back, throwing it on the coffee table. His Reeboks came off next, then he knelt down in front of the television set, looking through stacks of unorganised VHS tapes.

“Oh, yeah. Black Christmas. To All a Goodnight. Christmas Evil. Gremlins. Don’t Open till Christmas. The Dorm that Dripped Blood. You know, the classics,” he explained, turning around to give you a trademark grin.

You could help but smile back, heart aflutter with how utterly Eddie he was being. “I mean… we’re between Halloween and Christmas, right? Might be the perfect time for a festive horror?”

“Babe, you get me,” he replied with a laugh.

Eddie put a tape in and joined you on the couch, crashing down next to you with enough force you thought he was going to crush you for a second. He always landed with his weight on his hands though, never hurting you in the slightest.

“Alright, so even though this is pretty new, it’s arguably one of the best Christmas horrors. Came out… last year? Maybe the year before? Or the one before that. It kind of came out of nowhere, like, it’s not written by one of the big guys,”

“Big guys?”

“Yeah, like Craven or King or Carpenter. But people were pissed. All up in arms about good ol’ Santa being the bad guy,”

“Eddie! Did you just ruin the ending?!”

Eddie cackled. “No. It’s not that type of film. It’s just pure slasher… Which is why the puritans of the United States of Christmas America tried to get it banned and shit. Only just came out on tape because of it all. Had to be edited. Less gore.”

You loved when Eddie told you about something like that. He’d be animated and excited. Eloquent. Funny. Engaging.

“What’s it called?” you asked.

“Silent Night, Deadly Night.”

You snorted. “That’s a dumb name,”

“Yeah, but the deer antlers, babe. It’s fucked.”

Eddie was right. It absolutely was fucked. You cringed at the special effects in the film, understanding why people considered it to be too explicit. All in all, it was okay.

“I give it a B minus,” you stated as the credits began to roll.

You were stretched out on the couch with Eddie on his tummy between your legs, using you as a pillow. Throughout the film, he had been pressing lazy kisses to your stomach, hips, and hands.

“She’s hard to please,” he mumbled, his face mashed into your t-shirt.

“Am not. I just get sad when the villain is only bad because of something that happened to them. It’s like… Boring.”

Your argument interested Eddie, he lifted his head to look at you, folded his arms across your body, and rested his chin on them. “Continue,”

“Well, like, isn’t it scarier when someone is evil but there is no reason to be?”

Eddie thought about it. “You’ve got a point,”

“Right? And like, it’s kind of mean to keep saying that if shitty things happen to you, you’re going to become the villain. I mean, bad things have happened to us and we don’t go around killing people.”

Eddie was perceptive enough to see your argument was one part head and one part heart. He nodded. A sly, wicked little smile flashed on his face then. “I mean… You don’t know what I do when you’re not around,”

“Oh?”

“Mmmhmmm,” he hummed, crawling up your body and holding himself over you. “I could be the villain. The very bad, very evil guy,”

“Psycho killer?” you whispered, pulling him down by his pick necklace to kiss you.

Eddie did your favourite thing – smiled so hard into the kiss that the kiss didn’t work anymore. He laughed a little. “And you’ve totally fallen into my trap,”

“Playing the long game?” you countered.

Eddie nodded then pressed his forehead to yours. “There’s been others, you know, to keep me… satisfied.” He sounded ridiculous, his voice taking on just a little of his DM flair and a little of his dirty talk tone. “But I’m obsessed with you. Infatuated. Fanatical. Just had to have you.”

Despite the silliness, you could feel your body heating up. Trying to play it off, you giggled and looked away. It didn’t deter Eddie, instead you had just given him access to your neck. Quickly, he kissed a line from the top of your shirt up to just under your ear.

“You’ll never get out of here alive,” he whispered in his best love-sick sociopath voice.

Instead of laughing or pushing him off, your hands curled around his t-shirt. He bit your earlobe and you wrapped your legs around his waist in response. Eddie returned to kissing your neck, nipping harder than he usually would. Purposeful bruises would appear by dawn.

You were unsure how you felt. If you thought about it, your mind turned to morality and you recoiled at the idea of being hurt by a man. That train of thought lead you to Andy and your father. But, if you didn’t think at all, if you focused on physical sensation, it was different. Your body betrayed your mind and you wanted to go all in on the fantasy. And, if you focused on Eddie and Eddie alone… well, fuck.

Eddie, for his part, wasn’t thinking at all. He was acting purely on impulse and desire. When you squeaked out, “H-how would you…” but lost confidence in yourself halfway, he nudged your nose with his.

“How would I what?” He kissed you. “How would I massacre my sweet little angel?” He kissed you again, then looked from your lips to your eyes to check on you. Your pupils were blown so wide your eyes were almost as dark as his were on a daily basis.

The expression on your face was new to Eddie. He was sure he’d never seen you look so placid yet you were hanging on his every word. It was electric; he felt like his entire body was buzzing.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

You nodded, your gaze drifting to his necklace. With no premeditation, you opened your mouth and caught it between your lips, sucking it in.

“Jesus,”

“How?” you asked again, spitting the pick out.

“I… I need more space. Come on,” Eddie ordered. He was off the couch and pulling you to the bedroom with a neediness that absolutely thrilled you to your core.

…

“Nope. I love you more. It’s like… science,”

“Science schmience. I love you more,” Eddie replied.

It was sometime well after the 3:00 am witching hour. You and Eddie had thoroughly explored the fantasy, and were winding down with the help of a joint and cups of shitty packet mix hot cocoa.

“Maybe…” You knew it was a dangerous thing to say. There was time to stop yourself but you didn’t. “You just love me because you feel bad for me.”

Eddie’s easy happy expression dropped. His head tilted up just a little, enough to tell you he was thinking carefully. “Is that what you think?”

“No… But, you know, you kind of saved me… And, you do love a broken thing.”

He sat up. “If I only love you because… you were a broken thing,” he started. “Do you only love me because I saved you?”

“What? No,”

“Ah, so there’s plot holes in your theory, angel.”

Eddie reached out and ran his thumb along your bottom lip. He would have loved you if he’d found you ditching class and giggling behind the woodwork shed. If you’d given him the time of day, he would have loved you no matter what. There was a reason he’d remembered the small interactions you’d shared before 1986.

And, if you had given him the time of day, you would have loved him no matter what. It wasn’t the valium and the roof over your head that made you fall in love with Eddie. It was everything in between and beyond.

It was reductive to say your love was tied to saving and being saved. Love didn’t bloom because trauma planted the seeds. Because healing was rain and safety was sun.

Love bloomed for the simple and entirely irrevocable fact that it should.

Eddie turned the bedroom lamp off and pulled you into him. You rested your head on his chest, felt the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

“I wish I quit cheering sooner,” you whispered through the darkness. “I might have… become me faster. Might have talked to you properly before this year,”

“I don’t know… Used to spend a lot of time thinking about how things could have been different. You know, with my, uh, parents… and all that. But it doesn’t really help. Doesn’t change anything… I mean, I wish it didn’t take me three years to graduate high school… but if it didn’t, wouldn’t have you, so… maybe it’s better not to wish things were different.”

Sometimes Eddie would drop a line of cosmic wisdom, and you felt honored to know him as that smart and thoughtful boy as well as the absolute madman that wanted sex while you were on your period and stole jack-o-lanterns for the sole purpose of destruction.

“Okay,” you said. “Well then, right now, I don’t think about any of this being different. Everything is just… good.” You wished there was a better word.

“Yeah, it is,” Eddie agreed, reaching over to run a finger across the stone of your ruby ring. He looked at you, mouth curved into a smile, eyes dark enough to mirror your reflection back at you.

Cuddled into him, you were warm, safe, and content all the way down to your bloomed love bones.

…

Eddie was home alone and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. You had gone with Esther to find a dress for your upcoming birthday, and Wayne was running errands and doing the grocery run.

He considered his options. House chores? Nah. Go for a walk? Nope. Give his bong a proper clean? He’d put that down as a maybe. Make a new mixtape. Masturbate. Try to give himself a tattoo using ink and pins. Nap.

Eddie had been sitting on the couch for about five minutes when the decision was made for him. A car pulled up outside the trailer, the gravel crunching under the tires. It wasn’t Wayne; Eddie knew the sound. He was standing to go spy out the window when there was a sharp knock on the door. Eddie didn’t bother with the window, pulling the door open with a casualness that indicated he never would have guessed who was there. He clenched his jaw and folded his arms across his chest.

Your father looked Eddie up and down, the same disgust on his face he wore last time he was in Forest Hills. Eddie said nothing, but glanced over at the car to see your mother in the front seat.

“Guess there’s a part of her that always knew,” your father said. Eddie looked back at him, still giving him nothing. “Doubt you’re getting any acceptance letters. That means she’s leaving you behind?”

Eddie held his poker face as your father shoved a bunch of mail into his arms. Without another word, they were gone.

Slowly, Eddie closed the door and walked to the kitchen bench. He laid out the envelopes, saw the college stamps, and took a breath. They had already been opened, a reminder of the disrespect you endured under their roof. He didn’t want to be like them. He didn’t want to invade your privacy. But Eddie’s rationality left when your parents did.

With shaking hands, Eddie learnt that you’d been accepted into three different colleges. The fact that he recognised two by name – Notre Dame and the University of Chicago – meant you’d done exceptionally well. He felt bad for being surprised. It wasn’t that he thought you weren’t smart enough, it was more that you’d had a rough year. Evidentially it hadn’t affected your grades.

Notre Dame was at least within the state. He could still see you. Or… was your father right? Were you about to leave him in Hawkins alone to rot? Notre Dame hadn’t offered financial support, the letter reading they regretted to inform you no scholarships were offered. How would you afford college?

Eddie was suddenly realising that it was a mistake to never talk about life beyond high school.

The next envelope offered accepted to a community college close by. He knew it was your backup. They offered financial support to pay for classes.

Finally, Eddie held the thick package sent from the University of Chicago. Tears were rolling down his face, landing on the paper and making it warp. You were accepted. Welcomed. Eddie began to grind his teeth. A full scholarship, on the basis that your History teacher was an old classmate of someone in the Humanities department. The recommendation was glowing. It was enough money to fund classes, materials, and a good chunk of living expenses. There was a room in a dorm already assigned to you, pending your acceptance of their offer.

Eddie dropped the letter before it creased in his fist. He tried to blink away the tears, then tried to wipe them from his face with the back of his sleeve. They kept coming. “Fuck!” he yelled so loud the Mayfield’s dog barked in response. He said it again, but it came out in a whisper. Eddie walked in a few circles, then back and forth. His breathing quickly lost rhythm and he started to hyperventilate.

The image of you, happy and Eddie-free, kept flashing in his mind. You in Chicago. You meeting college boys. You falling in love with someone else. You kissing someone else. Fucking someone else. Marrying someone else. Having a whole fucking life with someone else.

He tried to sit down but as soon as his body hit the couch he was back up, verbalising a broken, “Nope,” before going back to pacing. Eddie did all he could to stop from crying, but he crumpled to the floor and whimpered.

Meanwhile, you were in the front seat of Jeff’s car, borrowed by Esther. You were laughing with her, talking her out of any sort of surprise party. She pulled up out the front of the trailer and you asked if she wanted to come in.

“Is Wayne home?” she asked.

“Ahh…” You looked out to see if there were one or two vehicles parked. “Nope. Doesn’t look like it,”

“Then no. If Munson is home alone, god knows what’s going on in there.”

You laughed and shrugged. “That’s fair. Okay,” you replied, grabbing your bag. “I’ll see you later. Thanks for driving,”

“All good. See ya.”

You waved as Esther drove away. The door to the trailer was unlocked, which was not out of the ordinary. You walked in and made your way straight to the bedroom, the quietness usually meaning Eddie was catnapping the day away.

He wasn’t in there.

“Eddie?” you called, dropping your bags and returning to the other side of the trailer. You jumped when you saw him, startled by his still presence on the couch. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!”

You were about to laugh when you saw the redness in his cheeks, the hollow look on his face.

“Eddie? What’s wrong? What happened?” you asked, quickly going to him and falling to your knees in front of him. His stare was vacant and it was like he was avoiding your gaze. “Eddie? What happened? Where’s Wayne?”

Still, Eddie said nothing. You stood up and looked around. Nothing looked out of place. That’s when you noticed them. Paper and envelopes strewn across the kitchen counter. Somehow, you knew what they were without reading them.

As you stepped closer, you picked up the letter on top. The University of Chicago.

“Your dad came over.” Eddie’s voice surprised you. You felt ice cold. “Dropped your mail off,”

“Eddie,” you said slowly, turning around.

“So, that’s it?” His voice was hard, not how you were used to. Eddie looked over at you. The expression on his face was accusatory.

“What?”

“You just… come into my life. Make me love you. Make Wayne love you and all my friends. Then just fucking leave? Not a fucking word about it.”

You had never seen him angry. Immediately, you were scared. Your eyes welled up with tears and your bottom lip quivered like a child's. “No… That’s not-”

“I’m so fucking dumb! I really fucking thought you…” Eddie hesitated for only a millisecond. “…loved me. But, ah, I don’t even know what you’re doing. Don’t even know who you fucking are,”

“No. No, Eddie.” You tried to reach for him but he held his hands up and stepped backward.

“Don’t,”

“Eddie, please, I do love you,”

“No. Nope. You don’t... How the fuck could you plan on fucking Chicago, Chicago, and not say anything about it. Your whole life is planned. There’s literally a bed with your fucking name on it there!”

Eddie was being completely unfair. You couldn’t tell that in the moment. You’d had a whole life of being treated unfairly and the conditioning to make you believe you deserved it.

“Please,” you begged. “I applied at the start of the year. I didn’t… I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t have you like I do now. I thought I’d be stuck with my parents if I didn’t find a way to leave. Please, Eddie, listen-”

“No. Fucking no. Jesus.” Then, he said your name. Not baby or babe. Not angel. Your name served bitter.

On the verge of breaking down into either mania or a catatonic state, you turned and grabbed at the acceptance letters, ripping them up. “I don’t want to go, Eddie! I don’t want to go!”

He watched you with cruel indifference. The trauma that was deep in Eddie, the one that took the shape of him as a child, left by his parents, unloved by everyone for so long, had come to the surface. It was violent sadness and terror of abandonment.

Neither of you had heard Wayne pull up or climb the stairs into the trailer. He opened the door, arm holding a bag of groceries, just in time to see your hands full of ripped paper lower to your sides defeated.

“Please,” you cried, stepping forward again.

“Should’ve never fucking trusted a cheerleader,” Eddie spat.

“What the hell is going on here?” Wayne yelled. He watched you reach out for Eddie again, only to have Eddie push your arms away from him.

“She’s leaving,” Eddie told Wayne.

“No! No, I’m not,” you managed to say between sobs.

“Why wait? You should pack your shit and go now. Save us both from any more wasted time,”

“Eddie!” Wayne shot. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, you know. The fucking usual. Not fucking good enough. Not worth it. Right?”

He was so full of rage that you were paralysed. All you could do is look at him and cry, hoping that he’d see you never meant to hurt him.

“Eddie,” Wayne said again.

“Doesn’t fucking matter,” Eddie interrupted, stopping whatever scolding was coming. He darted by Wayne and was out the door before anyone could stop him.

Both you and Wayne watched in shock as Eddie’s van tore away from home, disappearing in a cloud of dust. When Wayne turned around, you were on your knees.

“Jeez, kid. What happened?” he asked softly, coming to pull you up and sit you on the couch.

After your best effort to speak was ineffective, you pointed to the kitchen counter. Wayne scanned over what was left of the letters, growing more confused before he settled the pieces into place. He knew exactly why his nephew had lashed out harder than he had ever before, but it didn’t justify how he had treated you. Wayne came and sat next to you, a hand on your arm to let you know you weren’t alone.

“I’ll kick his ass for this,” he eventually said. “He might be scared, but this ain’t how I raised him to treat people. Especially not girls,”

“I… wasn’t… gonna… leave…” you breathed out.

“I know. He knows. He’s just… He’s like one of those kicked around stray dogs out there sometimes. Not his fault, but still can’t go around biting. He’ll calm down. I’ll have a long conversation with him about this, don’t you worry.”

You were worried. Everything good was crumbling around you faster than you could comprehend. There were horrible truths – like the fact your father purposefully did this – that you hadn’t even begun to face or unpack.

“What if he doesn’t love me anymore?”

Wayne hated the small voice that came out of you. It reminded him of his brother’s wife, and like all the other people he’d not been able to help. Life is hard for a Munson, and it hurt him to see one of his own be the harbinger of heartache. He hated to see shades of his brother in Eddie.

“S’not possible, kid. Not big on the whole… fate thing, but think it’s more than high school sweethearts for yous.”

Wayne made you tea, which you didn’t drink, and followed you along the hallway into the bedroom. You climbed into bed, pulled Eddie’s pillow close, and started to cry again. Wayne turned the light off and closed the door, not knowing what else to do.

Next Chapter: 13 - Pretending

End Note: I’m sorryyyyyyyyyyyyyy.

When I graduated high school, there was one huge party after the ceremony and literally the entire year was invited. It was at one of the cool kids’ houses but everyone went. It was surreal, tbh. So, yeah, all the Seniors went to Chrissy’s house. One night of like… get out of jail free cards and truces.

Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984) is a classic 80s slasher film, not actually gory by today’s standards, but tw: sexual assault. Why do so many horrors have really shitty scenes involving S.A.?

Fic Taglist: @ajeff855 @b-barnes04 @eddie-munson-is-a-sweetheart @nerd-squad-headquarters @word-wytch @harrys-tittie @munsonsmel0dy @sidthedollface2 @eddiethesexy @bardicfrustration @orpheusredux @munsonsgirl71 @a-time-for-wolvess @eddieswifu @rosaline-black @thegirlwhohides @emotionaldreamer @e0509 @briasnow-blog @kiyastrf94 @erinsingalong @rainylana @thescarletangelsstuff @mrsdollardog @tayhar811 @chickennug90

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#Mine #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x Chubby!Reader

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stolenoc · 7 months

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Villainous Nights Fanfiction

Like fully two years ago I started writing a Villainous Nights AU where MC got recruited by Optimus before the Syndicate found her. I've stopped writing it, but I've always liked this scene and I'm sick of scrolling past it in my wips and being sad it won't be used, so here it is.

3500 words, MC x Juliette (Monarch & Bat too, I guess)

When I glance at the screen, it's to find an incoming call from one of my contacts- specifically, from Bat.

I'd be the first to admit I've been pretty forgetful lately- How could I not be? Thanks to all the hit and run attacks the Syndicate have been making lately, I’ve been basically working nonstop. I’m tired in a way that sleeping doesn’t even fix but, even so, I’m pretty sure I would remember saving one of the guys who are trying to kill me as a contact.

Did he like, hack into my phone and add this? Is that a thing you can do? I guess it's probably a thing he can do. His name is listed as "Bat- Just wanna talk", which is… well, it’s in character for him, if nothing else. He does like to talk.

After taking a quick, guilty glance around to make sure I'm mostly alone (I'm not strictly sure if I'd be allowed to accept calls from the people the company is actively at war with), I answer the phone, heart pounding in my ears.

"Hey, Monarch," says Bat, even now sounding as awkwardly, inappropriately casual as ever.

I scoff. It's an angry sound, and I realise that I am angry. How dare he know who I am? We had such a good thing going, the Syndicate and I. It was like a game- A high stakes game that sometimes resulted in broken bones but, you know. It felt like there was respect there.

"You might as well just use my real name," I say, and it comes out as a growl through my gritted teeth. "What's this about, dude? Just trying to scare me? Because congrats, yeah, it's working."

A sudden intake of breath. Then, "No- no, Monarch, uh... Lana. This isn't a threat- okay so, in retrospect? I can see how this-"

"Oh, it's not a threat?" I hiss. "That's funny, because I am feeling exceptionally threatened. I swear, Bat, if the Syndicate goes after my-"

"The Syndicate doesn't know who you are, Lana!" he says, cutting me off. "I do. Just me. I haven't told anyone else. I really do want to talk, just the two of us."

Well. Okay. That shuts me up. I take a moment- there's just a lot to unpack with that. Bat knows who I am, and is calling me "just to talk", and wants to keep the rest of the Syndicate out of it. I... can probably work with this.

Toning down the aggression a notch, I say, "So, what is this, then? Are you looking for a job, Bat? Should I put you through to HR? There’s a couple positions open, actually."

I regret making the joke instantly- that particular wound’s still pretty raw for me- but Bat does laugh. He says, "No, I'm good, thanks. And I'm no turncoat- the Syndicate knows I'm calling you, just not who you are."

"Wait, so you're saying that they know that you know- and they're okay with you keeping it a secret?" I ask, dubiously. "Even Murderpants McKnifeguy?"

Bat snorts. He says, "They're... well, they can't do much about it, really. I'm kinda irreplaceable? They love me for my big genius brain and stuff. But yes, Falcon is extremely pissed."

"Yeah, I bet."

"It helps that I'm kinda keeping away from them, also," he admits. "Full disclosure? Everyone's shouting at me today, it completely blows. But that's not why I'm calling you."

Even though every suspicious instinct Optimus drilled into me is telling me to hang up, to go tell Rene or someone about the intrusion, to run screaming to Juliette's apartment to make sure she's okay, I have the strangest urge to just give Bat a chance.

It's true that he's always seemed a little different to the rest of his team. He rarely makes an appearance in person, and only seems to fight under sufferance- he's treated almost like a consultant. Could he have different goals? Goals that don't involve spearing me with ice lances or burying me under tons of rock?

I say, "Okay, I'll bite. What's this about?"

"I'd like to meet with you in person," he says, after a long moment of hesitation. He quickly amends, "In costume, obviously. Both of us. We can make it look like an accident during one of your patrols."

Oh, that sounds safe. I ask, "What's wrong with talking over the phone? And also, why would I keep this a secret from Optimus?"

"I want to give you something, and I need to make sure you actually get it," he says, then he chuckles a little nervously. "And as for the secret thing… You don't have to, but I'll be meeting you alone. Ideally, Scarlet Brighid won't show up and break my spine. I'd like it if we could both trust each other, here."

Ironically, the grisly description helps me relax. He's not wrong- even if he's lying through his teeth, I'm the one with the army of megacorp superheroes as backup. But if he's telling the truth… No, I can’t risk letting Scarlet show up to do her thing. Enemy or not, I don't want the man dead.

And so, just under an hour later, I make a tiny alteration to my patrol path, with Rene's permission. I started a little late, so I'm in a little bit of a rush- the second I cut the connection with Bat, I called Juliette to make certain that she was completely fine and un-kidnapped, and I ended up soaking in the reassurance of her voice for a bit longer than I should have. I wanted so badly to just tell her why I was freaking out, but...

Well. Lying to her sucks, but lying to Rene is starting to come pretty naturally. The trick is tying the lie to something vague that they can't reasonably predict- for example, it's easy for me to just tell them that I'm 'checking out some unusual activity' as I pass the location that Bat specified, a construction site that's nice and quiet.

It's a tall building, probably fated to be some big office space once the walls are filled in and the scaffolding ends up wherever scaffolding goes after it's finished its job. I could use it to climb to our meeting point, on the building's roof- but flying is only getting easier with each day of training. It's getting to the point that I might just stop walking altogether.

It only takes a minute, and I'm touching down on- not actually on a roof, exactly, because there's pillars sticking up all over the floor that are clearly intended to eventually hold up a ceiling. I resolve to think of it as the ‘top floor’, rather than ‘the roof.’

Bat's already waiting for me, far away from the building’s edge- and he's not looking so good.

"Bat? You doing alright?" I ask, feeling unexpectedly concerned as I jog to his side. He's bent over double, panting audibly even through the mask. He holds up his hands as I approach, as though to fend me off.

"I'm... good..." he says, between desperate huffs of air. "Just... just got here, too... Underestimated... hah... how long it'd take to... to climb all those stairs…"

He looks up at me, still breathing heavily. His digital faceplate displays an emoticon I haven't seen him use before- a pained expression, with a semicolon sweatdrop running down its face.

It's only then that it really clicks with me that Bat's just.. some guy. An extremely smart 'just some guy', granted, one with an interesting power and access to a lot of very cool toys, but he's not like Scarlet, or even Marquis. He's not like the rest of the Syndicate. He's not like me. I could flatten him to paste right here, right now, without even breaking a sweat.

I swallow, hard. Somehow it hadn’t occurred to me before now that just having powers doesn’t by itself turn you into a superhero, or supervillain. When, then, had I made the change from ‘just some girl’ to ‘Monarch’?

Welp, that's a thought for the vault. I just say, flatly, "The Syndicate could really use a flier or two, huh?"

"Oh you have no idea," he says, finally straightening up. His faceplate displays anger, now, but his tone is joking as he says, "You have it so easy, you know that? You never have to touch a stair again."

"Eh, flying has its ups and downs," I say, and even stressed as I am, I can't help but giggle when Bat's faceplate goes completely blank in protest. I have to admit, he's always fun. I say, “And you seriously didn’t bring the whole gang with you?”

He looks around, demonstratively holding out his hands. “I’m the only one here, right? Paranoid much?”

The flippant response really bothers me, for some reason, and I feel that spike of anger again. I say, bitterly, “Well, I guess I have reason to be paranoid. Apparently, I’m awful at keeping secrets. For all I know, my real name is gonna be trending tomorrow.”

He swaps his digital emotion again, this time signifying laughter- but he doesn’t laugh, himself. God, I bet you could write a book on the nuances of Bat’s expressions. He says, “You? No way. You’re great at secrets."

Then, after a beat, he continues, "That is, uh- I peeped your social stuff, you know- Facebook, Twitter, Yelp reviews, etcetera. You look so normal it’s boring.”

“Then how-”

“It was, um. Kinda an accident, honestly,” he says, displaying a blush. “Don’t tell anyone, but I work at Optimus-”

“You work- what?” I interject, dumbfounded. “No, you don’t. At this point, I’m willing to bet cash that Optimus is tracking my periods- you’re not hiding nightly corporate sabotage from them.”

“Hey, does it bother you a little that your opinion of Optimus has gotten so low that you just automatically assume they’re committing unforgivable violations of privacy?”

“It bothers me plenty,” I admit, with a shrug. “It sucks, but that’s corporations for you.”

Bat shakes his head. “Wild. Anyway, I don’t get screened, for the same reason Scarlet Brighid doesn’t get screened. I’m above suspicion.”

That’s absolutely terrifying. I say, “If that’s true, then you’d have to be a board member, or something. Couldn’t you just talk to me directly?”

A big X flashes on the faceplate. Bat says, "Negative. If you think being high on the food chain means nobody will try to eat you, then you’re not suspicious enough. Case in point: I bet you didn’t even know about all the mics on your suit.”

I blink.

"My what?" I ask, genuinely mystified. "Bat, I don't have a-"

"You have thirteen microphones on you right now- I’ve been jamming them since before I called you." Bat cuts me off, and starts pointing at seemingly random parts of my costume. "There, there, there- that zipper there’s actually got a camera in it, not that Optimus would ever use the footage for transparency-"

I bat his hand away, irritated now. I've trusted him this far, but he could easily be just talking out of his ass. I just say, "I'm still on Optimus's side, Bat, even if they're invasive and weird. If you've called me here with the exact same 'Oh, Optimus is totally evil, trust us instead' pitch Wolf’s always trying on me, then I’m gonna get back to work."

"No, that's fine. I'm not asking you to trust my word," he says easily, before pulling something out of the pouch at his waist. It's a lanyard- the same style that important guests at Optimus tend to wear. Hanging from it is a keycard. He holds it out to me, and the card dangles there between us. "I'm asking you to trust this."

I take it, and rotate it in my hands. It's just plain white plastic- I have an identical card in one of my own pouches, since Optimus doesn't exactly go around writing things like 'SECRET SUB-LEVEL SIX ACCESS' on its keycards. I ask, dubiously, "And this tells me... what? Why do I want this?"

A cheeky smile lights across Bat's faceplate. He says, "You know how I'm sorta just, all up in Optimus's business? All the time?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, you're super cool. You've aged Paris Optima about twenty years with all the hacking, by the way, she hates you the most."

"Ah." The smile fades, replaced by a blank darkness. "Ouch. But um, anyway, I've read most of your chat logs with her-"

"Creepy."

"-and I know you've been cautioned, repeatedly, for asking about a particular room on Basement Level 10. It's down the end of a long hallway, no number on the door? Is that ringing any bells?"

At some point I started gripping that keycard very, very tight. I look down at it now, and feel my pulse quicken with equal parts excitement and dread. I say, "You're kidding, right? Not even Scarlet Brighid gets in there, she told me herself."

"Optimas only," Bat breathes it like a prayer. He's looking at the keycard very intently- or at least, I guess he is. His face is kinda angled towards it? "All-access- or at least, close enough. The right person could do a lot of damage with that keycard."

It was pretty obviously the wrong thing to say, and the way he straightens right back up tells me he realises that too. I pocket the card, then say, shaking my head, "You know what, you're probably right. If this belongs to an Optima, I need to take it to one. Like right now."

"Lana, wait, listen-"

"Where did you even get it?" I demand, taking a step back, wary of any sudden lunges. "No, don't answer that. Do you have any idea how much trouble I'd get in if I was caught using some bigwig's access card, Bat?"

He holds out his hands, placating. His faceplate stays blank, but I can hear something like panic in his voice as he says, "Yes, yes, I do- but I don't think you do, Lana, that's the problem-"

"It's not a big mystery, my guy! I'd get fired!"

"Fired?" Bat asks, with a laugh of disbelief. "They're not gonna- do you seriously think Optimus would fire you? The woman who can fight the entire Syndicate to a standstill on her own? You're irreplaceable, too."

Despite myself, I feel my face heat up at that description. I say, "That's... obviously a bit of an exaggeration."

"No, it isn't." In another context, those words might be an encouragement, or flattery- but Bat says them grimly, like he just thinks it's very unfortunate for me. "But that doesn't mean you're safe from them, it just means they have some other way to control you.”

I don't know what to say to that, so we just... stand there, staring warily at each other. I've heard enough to know I should just turn around and hop right back off the building, but... something in what Bat just said jolts out an old, forgotten memory. What was it that Marquis had said? Something about Optimus wrapping around you like a parasitic vine, controlling your every movement? I doubt she meant it literally, but…

Well, even if I've been acting the part in front of the Syndicate, I'm not just some corporate bootlicker. I said I trust 'Optimus', but that's not really true. I trust people in Optimus, the ones I know. I trust Rene, and I trust Scarlet. I trust Juliette, too, more than anything. If I rotate the thought around in my mind, I can even say that investigating the company isn't really betraying those people- really, I'd just be finding proof that the company deserves them. Right?

Or maybe I'm just looking for excuses to go somewhere I've been told I can't. I think that might be it.

Bat doesn't seem to mix well with silence. He buckles under the pressure, first by plastering a few new emotions on his faceplate (He settles on a tonally inappropriate smiley face- I guess this is how he forces a smile?), and then by saying, in a rush, "Look, if you're worried about getting caught, don't be. I'd be right there with you, and I can delete you from any logs you end up in."

I quirk an eyebrow. "You'll be with me?" I ask, doubtfully.

"I mean, uh. Digitally. You know. I'll be monitoring you, and inside the system," he says, and his mask becomes a blushy face. "And if what you find in that room doesn't convince you to listen, then... well, then we're done, I guess. But I wouldn't be here if I wasn't confident."

He closes the distance between us, and I let him. He holds out a gloved hand, and asks, "Whaddaya say? Frenemies?"

That's the last little nudge I need, and I won't pretend the fact that Bat's being a huge dork about this has nothing to do with it- I have a soft spot for dorks, as it happens. I clasp the proffered hand tight.

"Frenemies," I repeat, and we shake on that promise. A happy, pointless little thought occurs to me, and I say, “You know, if we’re ever not actively on opposite sides of a corporate war, there’s someone I’d really like to introduce you to.”

The handshake lingers, though not uncomfortably- this moment of truce is a soothing balm to the months of fighting each other, and I don’t think either of us want to be the one to end it. Plus, you know. I like Bat. We can hold hands a little if we want.

Finally, Bat’s faceplate changes- an angry face, again, though it doesn’t remotely match the cheer in his voice as he exclaims, “We’ve been frenemies for ten seconds and you’re already setting me up with someone? Is he at least cute!?”

“You have no idea,” I say, through a laugh. I let the hand drop, and fix the bright LEDs in Bat's mask with a stern glare. "But look, Bat, this isn't going to work twice. If this is just some kind of trick, I’ll…well, I won’t like you anymore.”

I meant it as a joke. There’s really nothing else I could do to him, revenge wise, or at least nothing I’d also be willing to do. And yet, Bat's response is completely sincere, his voice contrasting with the goofy, unchanged expression on his faceplate as he responds, “I know. I hope you can at least believe me when I say that I really, genuinely, do not want that.”

...Then he does change it, into a winky face, which kills the mood a little. I huff out a laugh and say, “Yeah, whatever, man. Listen, I have to go- they’re gonna wonder what I’m looking at.”

I take a few backward steps towards the edge of the roof (the building’s ‘top floor’, I correct myself internally), as Bat replies, “Yeah, it’s been a hot minute. When do you wanna do this?”

My foot lands on scaffolding, and I lean to take a peek over the edge of the building. It’s a long drop to the construction site below, maybe thirty floors. I say, “No time like the present, I guess. I’ve still got my patrol to finish- will you know when I’ve started?”

Bat shoots me a thumbs up. He says, “I can patch into your comm earpiece no problem, so we’ll be able to talk. Give me an hour, then just say 'hey'. We can go from there.”

I look at him a little dubiously. I have no idea where the dude lives, but just getting up here almost knocked him out. Could he even climb down and then get back to his secret bat-cave in time for that?

I gesture over my back with a thumb, and ask, “Do you, uh- do you want a lift down?”

He laughs, sounding just a little uncomfortable. Arms crossed, he says, “Um, no, I’m okay actually. Thanks.”

I insist, “You’re gonna have to climb all the way down. I can get you there in like ten seconds.”

“Or in like, one second…” he mutters, and he hesitantly joins me over at the edge. He takes a peek down at the street below, and shivers. “God, how do you do that?”

“It was scary at first,” I admit. I don’t mention that I still haven’t stopped having those nightmares where my power stops working mid flight and I plummet to the ground, because I’m not sure if that'd be much of a comfort. I step off the edge of the building, where I do not fall, but instead do a languorous midair twirl to face him (I can admit to showing off a little). I say, “Come on, you’ve seen me catch rocks big enough I think they technically count as continents. I can carry two people.”

Bat says, dryly, “Yeah, don't get Badger started on that. She says that fighting you just boils down to us finding fun new ways to give you ammunition.”

“What was it you said? You hope we can trust each other?” I ask, cutting through his nervous snark. I hold out my hand. "I’m not gonna make you, but- look, do you really think I’d just let you fall?”

"I know you wouldn't," he said, and he takes my hand, holding it tight.

#villainous nights #lovestruck voltage #lovestruck #lovestruck fanfiction

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